


Light in the Darkness

by tikitidal



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A lot of this is research, Buckle in kids, But He Gets Better, But also a generous amount of headcanon, F/F, F/M, Frolicking in the Hinterlands, Harry in on the case!, Harry is HELLA old, Jim the scout strikes again!, Killing random strangers, M/M, Messing Around with Magic, Multi, Obsessed Death, Poor Life Choices, Slow Burn, Solas is kinda an ass, Stalker Death, Suicide Attempt, This Is Gonna Take A While, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-01-29 05:12:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12624016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tikitidal/pseuds/tikitidal
Summary: Harry is ready to die, he is ready to see his loved ones again and be at peace. However, Death has different plans for their Master. Those plans do not thrill Harry and he gets tossed into Thedas and into the limelight of a religious war. He did not ask for this!





	1. Into the Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually my first time publishing any of my rambling but I wanted to get this out since dragon age crossovers are hard to find and good ones are practically extinct or dead. Not sure if this is any good but I didn't cringe while editing it soooo... that's good right?
> 
> This is FANFICTION, don't expect top grade literature but i do appreciate constructive criticism.
> 
> I also decided to just post all i have done since I finished the prologue (LOL yup, 10k for the prologue). So don't expect the same speed, i write for stress relief or if it just tears up my head.
> 
> WARNING! Suicide Attempts and poor life decisions ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All his friend are dead and Harry is falling apart at the seams. Death is no help because he's happy that Harry is alive with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! Harry is Suicidal
> 
> EDIT: I revised all the chapters and fleshed them out some more.

At first, his youthful appearance was brushed aside as genetics since Harry continued to grow older regularly since the Final Battle, if at a slower pace. No one thought anything of his young looks for an Englishman other than Teen Witch Magazine that liked to gush over his “Glittering Emerald Eyes” at least once a month. Harry himself didn’t even pay attention to a mirror after the amount of time it took him to shave every morning. Looking 23 at 34 was a great and all but Ginny liked to punch him on the arm if he mentioned her laugh lines in a teasing tone. He honestly didn’t know why she fretted – they made her face glow when she smiled and Harry loved to see evidence that she was happy with him.

A few years down the line it caused some raised brows since even Ron and Neville were visibly older at 40 with greying temples and weakening eye sight, but he had been getting some delicate wrinkles on his brow from stress, so people shrugged it off as a powerful wizard thing. When asked about it by the Daily Profit, Ginny laughed and joked that Harry’s skin care routine beat out hers in time and money.

A decade later the Profit was running illegal anti-aging potion stories and call Harry a fraud that used dark rituals to keep his still 30 something appearance, but Harry didn’t give them one minute of his time. Ginny still kissed the corner of his mouth and had finally started to laugh more freely like in the years before the War. Harry didn’t spare them a glance, all his eyes saw were Ginny.

When Rose Weasley’s son graduated from Hogwarts Harry looked in the mirror. He saw smooth skin with only fine wrinkles on the brow and around the eyes. His hair was still thick and black, and his eyes were still bright like he was only 33 rather than 56. Then he looked at Ginny, his beautiful wife with her silver hair threaded with ginger and the reading glasses perched on her cute button nose. He looked at her pronounced wrinkles around her mouth as she smiled and her thinning lips that he still loved to kiss. Her laugh exploded out of her without hesitation and full of happiness as she held out the funny section of the newspaper for Harry to see. He smiled gently at his wife but in the back of Harry’s head he could help but wonder about grey hair and eye sight.

Five years later he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Why did he still look 30 something while Ginny looked all 60 of her years? Why did she not care? What was he going to do when they reached 100 and Ginny was too weak to ambush him with a tickling charm while he was half asleep, to dance with him in the rain, to laugh at the funny section in the kitchen? Harry was about to ask all the questions bubbling inside him when Ginny kissed him lightly on the corner of his mouth and smiled at him, her eyes glittering and the laugh lines crinkling. He was stunned so she took his hands and led him out of their home and the next thing he knew, the two of them were sitting on a dark red blanket with a basket of food to share, holding hands and watching the clouds float by. Ginny pressed a kiss to his hand that didn’t even have one liver spot and said, “I Love You.”

Today was a great day.

*~*~*~*~*

Harry was not having a good day.

Fuck, his entire week was shot to hell when tiny Violet was born and only a few short minutes later her mother died a month ago, when the last precious person to him on the Earth was placed in his arms. When Violet was born Harry swore to protect her, just like every member of his family before her. He SWORE, but Harry was never any good at keeping promises about things that really mattered. Things like Violet (Like Ginny).

Violet, the last of Ron and Hermione's bloodline (The last of Ginny’s Family).

Violet, Hermione's kin that had tiny pink toes and a fiery red shock of baby fluff (So much like Ginny’s Child if only Harry wasn’t sterile).

Violet, a miracle baby born to an aging witch of 68 years from the last day of Ron's great great great grandson had before going off to die protecting a werewolf child from an angry mob of villagers rioting against a “dark” creature.

Violet, a premature baby that had to be surgically removed 11 weeks before term to potentially save her and her mother.

Violet, a sleepy baby with a mile-long sheet of medical problems, fighting for her life against her own body.

Violet, the last thing tethering Harry to sanity.

What would he do without her (What would he do without Ginny)?

He hoped he didn't need to find out till decades later. She had to get better, Violet was his guiding star.

Violet died within her first few days of life (Dead, just like Ginny).

*~*~*~*~*

Violet died after three days of stress and staying up all night to watch her little chest shudder to get a breath. There was nothing he could do as the healers ran around frantically trying to save Violet as her heart just… gave out. 

After Violet died Harry threw himself into work.

Within the week Harry finalized the equal rights treaties with Vampires, Fairies, and Centaurs in time for his afternoon tea with the Minister of Canada and then spent the afternoon brewing mass amounts of Wolfsbane, so it could be passed out to those that had no way of acquiring it.

The next week he dismantled an illegal magical creature trafficking ring that had been evading authorities for close to four decades that was based in Cambodia. The entire organization was found tied up, down to their knickers, and their arms transfigured into dolphin fins.

The next week Harry took on a colony of inferi that was terrorizing America for a month before. A colony a few hundred-strong made by a budding Dark Lord that had the oddly efficient idea, for a wizard, to employ mass murderers and buy dead bodies from the North American underground. A Dark Lord that the American magical enforcers were having increasing trouble with. They were baffled when Harry just popped into the Dark Lord’s lair on a sunny Tuesday and decimated the army and knocked out the necromancer with one stunner and plopped him in front of the head Auror.

At this point the wizarding communities of the world were bewildered and stunned but they all chalked it up to Harry being bored. They didn’t even think about poor little Violet, in their eyes Harry was just doing his duty, in a frenzied way sure but still what they expect from their “protector”.

It didn’t even occur to them Harry was tired and more manic than usual in his drive to protect.

The Vampire treaty meeting was interrupted by violent vampire supremacists that somehow got the meeting details.

The Fairies were being hunted down by poachers that were known for their dark spell and unforgivable use. They were desperate for protection and almost begged for that treaty.

The Centaurs were always known for hostilities with wizards, Harry was expecting an arrow in the throat when he walked into their forests unarmed.

Wolfsbane was hard to brew en masse due to the toxic fumes most of their ingredients gave off, small enough for a batch or two but 50 practically made a toxic cloud. Harry had been brewing it in a shed.

His talk with the Canadian Minister went well, she talked about the terrors of magical creature trafficking over a cup of earl grey. Specifically, a group from Asia that keep sneaking in to poach their magical moose. Harry went out to solve the good minister’s problem, after all it was the least he could do for the good tea. The organization wasn’t that strong anyway, just filled with grunts and 10 of Asia’s top duelers.

The inferi disgusted Harry on principle so he decided to take care of it, while still in his pajamas and half asleep without his morning cup of tea.

Harry barely slept in the three weeks after Violet’s death, but the wizarding world didn’t care. All that mattered to the public was that they were safe and warm inside their bubble of ignorance. No one cared about Harry.

*~*~*~*~*

This week Harry was locked in battle with an ancient hydra he found while stumbling around Greece high off his ass from some poison from some random of plant he found in the Amazon Rainforest. Harry couldn’t really think straight right now but the poison gave the world around him a hazy edge and made the colors pop like they were neon lights.

The dual blades he found in a back-alley store were holding up pretty well against the hundred-year-old hydra, his hands were only almost bitten off twice when the blades wouldn’t hold against the reptile’s fangs. 

Harry swayed as he sidestepped a lunge from the right and giggled when the fangs of the Hydra got stuck in the stone. With a stab and a twist, the head popped right off and without even looking Harry knew the bleeding stump was flash fried, leaving the neck cauterized and unable to regrow.

Harry gave a slight pout and complained, “You never let the head regrow.”

His companion didn’t say anything, just waved a hand and sent another gout of fire at the twitching neck. Harry glared a little but didn’t say anything as he launched himself into battle once again. The Hydra only had three heads left and the adrenaline rush was starting to slow, the fight was getting boring.

Death hovered over his right shoulder, an immovable guardian, as Harry shoved his arm in the Hydra’s mouth and stabbed one of his short swords through the roof of its mouth into its brain and gained a gash on his arm from it. He left the sword in the head as it sluggishly spurted dark blue blood. Harry moved away from the twitching head, ignoring the fire that fused the sword and flesh together that stopped the flow of royal blue.

Death continued to patiently wait, a few steps behind and to the right, as Harry jumped on the Hydra and began climbing the undulating neck that was trying to throw him off. The other head snapped at Harry and was close to biting off his head but ran into an invisible wall before it even got within spitting range, Harry frowned.

“There is nothing you can do that will let you escape me, Master.”

Harry never paused in his climb, reaching the head’s crown of scales and raised his remaining sword high and with no hesitation brought it down into the soft spot right below the skull. The head thrashed twice and died as he backflipped away from the corpse, narrowly avoiding another attack from the last head. Not giving it anytime to rear back, Harry rushed forward and stabbed his remaining sword into the Hydra’s eye.

He stood back and stood there watching the monster writhe in pain and mindlessly hit its head against nearby rocks, slowly but surely pushing the sword further into its brain. The hazy view of the world retreated as Harry’s magic ate through the poison in his blood and Harry grew tired of the last head’s screeches. He sent a wave of pure magic with a flick of the wrist to force the blade straight through its skull, giving it the peace of death. 

“Death is inevitable, my friend.”

“But of course, when the worlds collapse into dust there shall be no need for Death any longer and we shall be free, but not a moment sooner. I will not allow it, after all a Master should never precede their servant into the afterlife.”

Harry was silently stared at the creature in front of him, dead and devoid of pain. It looked at peace just lying there, lifeless. The end of the world was a long time to wait for peaceful slumber.

Death, as always, was a constant watch behind him, a faithful servant to the last.

*~*~*~*~*

Harry tore through libraries all over the world, looking for his golden opportunity. He practically burned a trail from the imperial library in China to the deeply hidden African magic tribes to the northern Nordic Vikings in living in Iceland and everything in between. Harry even spent 5 years treasure hunting to find the lost magical civilizations in the faint hope that they would have an answer. Every book he got his hands on were devoured for information and if they were found lacking they were thrown aside. 

Currently he was in Cairo, Egypt tossing their most historic library into chaos as he poured over tomes left and right. The temple’s librarians were hovering just within eyesight, wringing their hands. They obviously didn’t approve of his treatments of their relics, but what could they say to him? He was the Man-Who-Fucking-Conquered, the Immortal-Protector-Of-Magic, the Idiot-With-Too-Many-Fucking-Hyphens-In-His-Name.

No, he isn’t bitter.

What was there to be bitter about? He was universally loved, and people threw themselves at him just for the chance to brag they banged him. 

All had to deal with were whiny adults who didn’t know how to do anything without someone holding their hands, dead loved ones that haunted his every breath, and the inability to be with them due to a clingy god with a master complex.

Not bitter at all.

In any case, Harry didn’t have any time to care about them anyway, he was on a warpath and he wouldn’t stop because that meant accepting that he was trapped in this eternal darkness.

*~*~*~*~*

Then as suddenly as the frenzy started it ended, an idea bloomed in his head. 

The Veil.

It was so simple.

It is the passage way between the land of the living and the dead.

A one-way trip.

Nothing that passes its silken embrace can come back.

It is pure death.

It is his salvation.

*~*~*~*~*

Harry moved through the Ministry like a conqueror: his head high, shoulders back, and every step filled with determination. He only had one destination in mind, the Veil. Behind him Death prowled agitated, a steady stream of promises and cajoling words to try and convince Harry that the best choice of action was to stay, to stay and live with Death for all eternity. Nothing could change his mind now though, Harry could finally see an end. He could see the light in the darkness that was his immortality. He could finally die.

At last the duo made it to the Death Chamber.

It was the same as Harry remembered, eerie yet enchanting. The tall arch in a perpetual state of crumbling and the veil just a whisper on the wind, a sea of black silk swaying in an intangible breeze. A melodious sound reached his ears, the gentle rise and fall of the voices of his loved one beckoning him. They called out to him, a siren song that he never wanted to stop.

To many this archway was stuff of nightmares, an unknown that was as mysterious as death itself, yet Harry couldn’t help but be filled with a sense of elation. Just seeing the Veil lifted the weight of the world from his shoulders and his soul felt lighter than a cloud.

With deliberation and reverence the Man-Who-Conquered-Death walked up the dais to the Veil and with a sigh of pure relief closed his eyes and fell through into the waiting arms of a Dear Friend.


	2. Fractured Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Wakes up in Thedas and nothing is good and everything is bad.

When Harry began to wake up the first thing that he realized was that he was chained. His arms were shacked in some frankly medieval contraptions, which was saying something since Harry came from THE world of backwater technology. The second thing he realized was that his arms had a twinge of discomfort at the awkward angle and heavy weight on them. The third thing hit him like taking the Night Bus to the face: he still wasn’t with his family, he was still _**alive**_.

This last revelation filled him with an endless pit of despair, Harry hunched in on himself and wept. His cries of sorrow echoed in the dark room he was chained in, alone just like always.

*~*~*~*~*

The sounds of crying called out to Leliana as she entered the Chantry. She had hoped that some meditation and prayer would banish the anger and hopelessness the death of Divine Justinia left. Quickly nixing that plan, she quickly moved further into the Chantry to see who was in distress when everyone should be outside attending the mourning ceremony the Chantry sisters were doing to ease the despair of the masses.

Within seconds she realized that the sound was coming from the dungeons, so she quickened her pace to check up on the prisoner and see if a small child snuck down while the adults were busy mourning. As she walked down the corridor to the main cells her worry grew, there wasn’t a child in any of the outer cells nor in the corridor. Was there one with the prisoner? Coming into the main set of cells deep in the bowels of the Chantry her stride faltered a half second as the scene registered in her mind. The prisoner was alone, and he was crying. 

It didn’t really make much sense to Leliana for a murderer to cry after succeeding in killing Divine Justinia. Unless he was just a tool, a cat’s paw, in a larger plan. Its unlikely someone truly devoted to the crime would cry with such deep regret. No, it’s much more likely if he is just a pawn to destroy morale in the people, maybe an agent of someone who didn’t want the Mage Templar war to end?

Leliana quietly left the dungeon, she had much to do to get ready for the prisoner’s interrogation since he was awake. Even if he wasn’t the mastermind he may have vital information about who was, and it was her job as the Left Hand to reach out and, if necessary, strangle any enemies. She had failed Justinia, she will not fail the fledging inquisition.

*~*~*~*~*

An immeasurable amount of time later Harry’s tears dried on his cheeks and all that was left was an extreme exhaustion, his body felt as if it was made of lead and his senses muffled by cotton. Harry had no more will to keep going, his last chance of death had failed but he might as well be just act like a dead man, numb to the world around him.

The four soldiers who marched into the dungeon caused no reaction from the hunched over man and they had no trouble manhandling him out of the cell into the circle of light. Once done the soldiers stepped back and stood guard with their gleaming weapons pointed at him.

Time seemed to move sluggishly and what seemed like an eternity later two women stepped into the room. Harry barely registered their presence, too deeply moored in his misery. Then, suddenly, the world snapped into focus when one of the women snatched his chin and pulled it up, forcing Harry to look at her. All he could process were her sharp eyes, angry and righteous.

“Are you deaf? Look at me!”, she barked.

Harry moved his jaw slowly and spoke lethargically, “I… I can hear.”

The agitated women suddenly let go of his jaw and scowled, “Thank the Maker for small mercies.”

The other women stepped out from the shadowed alcove she had been lurking in and, in a melodious voice with the slightest hint of a French accent, calmly asked, “Do you remember what happened?”

Harry shook his head and scowled, “The last thing I remember was trying to die, I don’t know where I am or why I’m still alive.”

That answer didn’t seem to be the incorrect one as both women recoiled as if burned and the angry woman hissed, “You tried to kill yourself?”

“That’s my one wish.”

The angry woman’s face became angrier, if that was possible, and she began to pace like a caged lion. After a few passes of the room she turned to Harry and practically spit out, “So the Divine, _**hundreds**_ of people, died so you could try to kill yourself. How repulsive! Ending your own life is a crime unto the Maker itself but to murder hundreds of innocents in the act is revolting!”

Harry suddenly became very ill and shouted in confusion, “Murder? There was no one with me when I was dying! I was completely alone!”

The french woman suddenly became interested, “So you cannot remember the explosion? The Breach? The Fade?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, I was trying to die by falling not explosions.”

She let out a soft hum, obviously thinking about his words. Although her companion was thinking, the angry woman was not content with the way the interrogation was going. She stomped up to Harry and harshly grabbed his left hand and wrenching it up.

“How do you explain this?”

Harry looked at his hand, his _**glowing**_ hand, in growing disbelief. 

“Is my hand glowing?!”

The angry woman scowled and let go of Harry’s hand, letting it hit painfully on the stone floor.

“The Mark is unknown to you then?”, the french woman asked.

“I have no idea what it is.”

As soon as those words left his lips, Harry found himself pulled up violently and shaken like a rag doll. 

“You lie!”

Just when Harry felt like throwing up from the vertigo the french woman intervened and pulled the angry woman away from him. It took Harry precious seconds of time to overcome his urge to regurgitate his meager last meal before suicide via Veil. He came to just in time to catch the tail end of a conversation between the women.

“…take him to the rift.”

The french woman left the room and the angry woman crouched next to Harry to unlock his shackles.

“What happens now?”

“I will take you to the rift and if you close it, the Breach.”, the angry woman said shortly.

She none too gently led Harry out of the dungeons into what looked like a church filled with red cloth and stylized golden suns. He didn’t get to see much more since his handler was moving quickly out of the church and into the frigid wind and bright sunlight. The light burned Harry’s eyes after being in darkness for so long but what he saw paralyzed him.

A giant, green hole in the sky. It practically screamed magic and it rained down destruction in the form of green fire balls every few second.

Holy Fuck, if these people find out he has magic they will toss him into a dungeon for the rest of his life and considering his luck, he would be there till the end of time.

Suddenly a sharp pain exploded from his left hand. Harry managed to stay standing through the pain, but his face was twisted up from the effort. It was not the pain of the Cruciatus Curse, the agony of each individual nerve being assaulted with a million white hot knifes at once, but the sharp stabbing feeling that pulsed up his arm with every spasm was damn painful. As suddenly as it began the pulsing stopped and it calmed down to a manageable dull throb that he must have been ignoring this entire time since he had no recollection of the burning in his hand.  
The angry woman placed a steadying hand on Harry’s back and began to lecture, “That is the Breach, a massive rift into the world of demons that continues to grow with every hour. An explosion at the Conclave created the Breach and many more smaller rifts.”

Finally catching his breath Harry grimaced, “And the pain?”

“As the Breach grows, so does your mark and it is killing you. We hope the Mark will fix the Breach but there isn’t much time left.”

Harry started to giggle, “I’m dying, how lovely.”

The angry woman lived up to her name and scowled, “This is no laughing matter, thousands of people will die if the Breach is not sealed. It may grow so much it will swallow the world.”

That crashed the mood quite efficiently. His one wish was to die and pass on to the other side, to see his family again. Yet, is his selfish want worth the lives of a world full of innocents?

No, nothing is worth mindless slaughter.

Harry looked up at the Breach and said with determination, “Okay, I will close the Breach. Nothing is worth the death of innocents.”


	3. Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes mountain climbing and meets new people

Cassandra observed the strange man that was her prisoner as he walked through Haven. He was an anomaly, deranged yet he seemed not to want people to die. This is in direct opposition to his actions in the Conclave, causing an explosion and killing hundreds of people in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. She didn’t know what to think of him and that bothered her. Was he the man who cried and grieved in the dungeon, the confident man whose voice rang true when he talked about saving innocents, or was he an insane murderer like the mage Anders?

Another thing that confused her was the fact that the explosion was without a doubt caused by magic, but this man was confirmed not to be tied to the Fade in ways mages were by Solas. Perhaps Leliana was correct: this man was but a pawn in a larger scheme. Yet that doesn’t seem correct either, this man did not have the air of someone easily manipulated or controlled.

She scowled, thinking on the man was useless, none of them have much information about him except his appearance and that he probably used a sword based on the calluses on his hands. The only way to know more about him was to tear the answers from him, more and more unlikely the more Cassandra interacts with him, or observe his actions.

*~*~*~*~*

Harry calmly walked on the trodden path out of the small village, aware that the woman behind him was glaring a hole into his head. He was mildly surprised by the venomous glares from the towns’ people but they probably thought he killed hundreds of people so that was justified.

Subtly glancing around to make a mental map of the village, he almost tripped when he noticed an extremely short person in the corner of his eye. Was that a goblin? No, it was just a short human, but there seems to be a cluster of them over by the fire. A different race of humans perhaps? Asians always tended to the short side.

Wait, was that a large house elf scurrying away with a pile of laundry, and ox men are definitely not on Earth. God damn it, was he on a different planet? Harry was certain that he was just captured by hermit muggles on Earth, but it seemed more likely they had magic and that this was not Earth.

As he was having a mild mental crisis his handler began lecturing again, “They have decided your guilt. They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead.”

They came to a stop just outside the huge wooden gates that were opened as soon as the men flanking it saw the angry woman. Said woman walked a little ways in front of harry and said with conviction, “We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the breach is sealed.”

With that she turned around and took out a dagger to tear through the rope bonds on Harry’s hands and said resolutely, “There will be a trial. I can promise no more.”

Harry nodded and lightly rubbed his wrists to get blood flowing normally again. His handler watched his hands like a hawk, daring Harry to do anything shifty, but eventually jerked her head to indicate he should start walking.

Of course, Harry was going to walk first, the angry woman wasn’t going to let a prisoner walk behind her without bounds even if he was being as accommodating as possible. This walk was going to be full of uncomfortable glares and pointed looks, wasn’t it.

*~*~*~*~*

On the mountain path to the rift Harry was getting fidgety and bored, he never dealt well with silence even before Ginny died. The view was breathtaking for the first few yards, but he got sick of the miles and miles of snow and stone five minutes ago and now he was bored. Plus, he already exhausted his repertoire of traveling games ages ago, this is why wizards have so many ways to travel faster. What Harry wouldn’t give to have a broom or even a portkey was better than the slow trudge in the snow.

Scanning the horizon again gave him nothing new to look at so he decided to turn around and try to make small talk with his angry companion, “Soooo… I never caught your name.”

The angry woman stopped and asked baffled, “I beg your pardon?”

Welp, that wasn’t the best way to start a conversation but it’s out there, might as well run with it.

“I’ve been calling you angry woman in my head and I would appreciate a name for the face?”

She scowled at the nickname and said shortly, “Cassandra Pentagast.”

“I’m Harry Potter.”

The angr – Cassandra looked at him incredulously, “Your parents named you harassment?”

Harry laughed, “No, it means ruler where I’m from.”

Cassandra let out a considering noise but didn’t reply. Harry almost tried to start another conversation, but Cassandra had a thoughtful look on her face. Besides, Harry got the feeling that Cassandra wasn’t the type of woman to like social niceties and all the frills that came with it. He resigned himself to another stretch of boring walking when they got to the top of the ridge and reached the first bridge on the way up the mountain.

“Open the gate! We are headed into the valley!”, she barked at the soldiers flanking the gate.

Quickly she ushered Harry onwards past soldiers rushing the other way, trying to escape the swirling green tear. Burning carts and dead bodies litter the ground on the road, abandoned or forgotten in the rush to get away. Halfway up the mountain to the next bridge the Breach pulsed again, and Harry hissed, clutching at his arm. It seems that the Breach is growing at a faster rate now.

Cassandra placed a fortifying hand on his back, her face was grim and her voice matter of fact, “The pulses are coming faster now. The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face.”

Harry managed to force his face into a smile, though by Cassandra’s face it was more of a grimace than a grin. He let out a huff and just picked up the pace up the mountain, “Better hustle then.”

There was a moment of silence then Cassandra’s voice floated to him on the wind, light as if she was afraid of the answer, “Do you know how you survived the blast? After all, didn’t you want to die?”

It took Harry precious moments to think about his answer. He couldn’t just blurt out that he believes he was transported to another dimension, he has no proof and he would sound insane.

“I don’t remember anything about the explosion or the events leading up it”, he said lightly. He didn’t lie but Cassandra’s face tensed up like she was unsatisfied by his answer.

“They said you… stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you’ll see soon enough.”

Harry had no time to comment on his mysterious appearance in the world. Just as he stepped on the second bridge a green fireball hit the stonework and exploded. Everything came crashing down and he was just happy the water was frozen under the bridge. He hit the ice with a dull thump and quickly pushed himself upright to see if any of the soldiers on the bridge needed help.

Just as he was turning to look at the wreckage behind him another fireball exploded in front of him and this time the ground began to bubble and turn a sickly green then tar black. The black slime exploded upwards in green fire as a creature materialized, as if born from the tar. 

What came out from the tar was a hunched over creature with two cracking arms and no legs. It glided across the ice at a rapid rate, but Harry did not need to reveal his magical abilities to fend off the creature since as soon as it got within range Cassandra efficiently engaged the creature with her sword and shield shouting, “Stay behind me!”

Unfortunately, another tar pit began to materialize in front to Harry while Cassandra was busy fighting the first creature. He scanned the wreckage behind him for a weapon, anything but magic. A suspect with magic plus magic hole in the sky only equals long days of interrogation and yelling, no thanks!

Luckily there seemed to have been a wagon full of basic weaponry on the bridge and there were plenty of swords to be had. Potter luck should never be underestimated for the convenience of sharp pointy things to kill violent creatures with. Harry snatched a sword that resembled the Sword of Gryffindor in size and went at it with the baby hunchback. 

It was an easy fight, within seconds of beginning the fight he realized that this monster was rather simple: it had a small set of attacks and didn’t use any tactics while fighting, just mindlessly slashing at him with its claws. After figuring that out all Harry had to do was time the swipes and lunge into the creature’s personal space and thrust his sword into its head. The creature slumped on the sword spearing it and then exploded into wisps of neon green energy that dissipated into the air.

Harry lowered the sword and grinned, “Heh, I still got it.”

“Drop your weapon. Now.”

Cassandra was behind him, pointing her sword threateningly at his throat. The hairs on the back of his neck raised and Harry didn’t even need to think about putting down the sword, any man that has spent time around a Weasley woman knows that angry equals give-them-whatever-the-fuck-they-want-now. It’s not like he was defenseless without the blade anyway, although maybe it’s best to let the people of this world believe he is.

“Okay Cassandra, I’m putting down my sword.”, he said calmly and began to slowly place the blade down, making sure to telegraph his every move. 

Cassandra let out an angry noise and relaxed her stance, “Stop. I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless.” She sheathed her blade and said respectfully, “I should remember that you agreed to come willingly.”

Harry stood up with the sword in hand after making sure Cassandra wasn’t going to hack him in half and made sure to pick up a sheath from the wreckage. Luckily it looked as if the few soldiers on the bridge before the collapse managed to escape death and limp off while Cassandra and Harry were killing the hunchbacks. After a quick survey of the area, and picking up a sack of potions, they moved on since there was no time to waste when there is a fire spitting hole in the sky.

*~*~*~*~*

They made good time considering the fire balls and tar pools that spit out hunchbacks and these super strange green ghosts that shot blasts of plasma that sucked any energy Harry had out, very unpleasant and he made sure to stab those extra viciously. They had made it halfway up the mountain they were climbing, and this rift was supposed to be located at the top of the mountain. After the rift they were going back down into the Valley and then up an even taller mountain to the temple.

Harry was so excited for that climb.

Cassandra shouted against the wind whipping around them, “We’re getting close to the rift. You can hear the fighting.”.

Harry gave an exhausted grin, Cassandra barely looked winded even while wearing a full set of armor. Harry would be jealous, but he was busy trying to regulate his breathing. He was not that fit and there were a ton of stairs, plus it was bloody freezing with the wind and snow even with the thick woolen clothes his jailers put him in.

“Let’s go help them out then.”

Cassandra nodded, and then they were off at a jog. Reaching the top, the first thing Harry noticed was the fire. A lot of fire. The second thing was a mini tear about 3 meters off the ground and a handful of men fighting some hunchbacks. 

He immediately jumped off the stone ledge to begin fighting the fairly predictable monsters. With two more bodies to fight the three hunchbacks were quickly dispatched. After the last one was killed by a short man with a crossbow someone grabbed Harry’s left hand and pointed it at the rift.

Whomever grabbed his hand shouted in his ear, “Quickly, before more come through!” 

There was a painful sucking sensation in Harry’s hand, the Mark shot out a green energy beam at the rift and began to compress and be pulled towards the pulsating crystal in the air. He had to brace himself and pull his arm back to try and prevent losing it from the suction. Thankfully, the force stopped trying to pull his arm out of its socket after 10 or so seconds.

Harry looked at his hand incredulously, “What the hell was that?” 

The person who grabbed him turned out to be one of the larger and less wrinkly house elves, he didn’t seem to be here for hose work though. He carried a magical focus and was quick to dispatch a hunchback that was targeting him. Maybe the elves here were like humans here and some of them just decided to be servants.

The elf monologued in a tone teachers tend to adapt, “Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake – and it seems I was correct.”

Cassandra seemed to lose a ton of stress when she heard that. Her voice filled with relief, “Meaning it could also close the Breach itself.”

The elf turned to Cassandra and said very vaguely, “Possibly”, and then turned to smile at Harry, “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

Great.

That’s just dandy.

Another Harry-has-to-save-the-world story.

Harry grimaced to himself but quickly zoned back in when the short human stepped forward.

“Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.”, he said with a good-natured grin.

So those creatures were demons, where the ghost things demons too? This world was pretty interesting, it seemed as if the underworld was permanently connected, or at least partially, to the living world.

The short man focused in on Harry with a winning smile, “Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.”, and a wink at Cassandra who predictably scowled.

He couldn’t help but smile; this guy was a showman and a comedian, reminded Harry of the twins and he can never be sad thinking about the twin pranksters, “Nice moves, beautiful crossbow you have there.”

Varric smirked and stroked the weapon’s barrel, “Thanks, Bianca and I have been through a lot together.”

Harry raised a single brow, “Bianca?”

If it was possible Varric’s smirk got wider, “Of course, a lovely name for a lovely lady. And she’ll be great company in the valley.”

Cassandra was immediately on guard and hissed, “Absolutely not. Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…”

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.”

The insinuation that Cassandra needed any help smashing demons into the ground seemed to offend her, but she backed down with a disgusted noise and looked away from Varric.

The elf took the lull in the conversation to introduce himself, “My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I’m pleased to see you still live.”

Varric let out a huff and translated, “He means, ’I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.’”

Harry became more interested, “So you know what this is?”, looking at the glowing scar on his hand.

Cassandra chose this time to come back to the conversation, “Solas is an apostate, well-versed in such matters.”

“Technically, all mages are now apostates, Cassandra. My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed regardless of origin.”

Harry looked at Solas with new respect, it took courage to fight when all seemed hopeless. He had more will to live than the majority of the wizarding world back on Earth who just collectively stuck their head in the sand and complained when something bit their ass. 

“That’s very admirable, most people would flee or hide in their homes hoping for someone to swoop in to save the day.”

Solas seemed surprised by Harry’s friendly and respectful tone, “I… Thank you. My actions are merely sensible. Though, as you already mentioned, sense is a rare commodity these days.”

After giving a nod to Harry, Solas turned to Cassandra with a furrow in his brow,” Your prisoner is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

Cassandra looked at him with a grim expression on her face, “Understood. We must get to the forward camp quickly.”

Solas moved so he was walking next to Cassandra and the duo moved towards the boarded-up stairway down the mountain. Varric looked at Harry before grinning, “Well, Bianca’s excited”


	4. Plasters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry the Spy acting sneaky and getting info. Also shenanigans and demon killing.

The team of four made quick work of the small valley, Solas and Varric easily took down any ghosts while Cassandra and Harry took on the hunchbacks. They were now moving upwards again, towards the forward camp. Harry and Varric brought up the rear and it seemed as if Varric finally got sick of the silence, “So are you Ferelden?”

Outside Harry gave Varric a look of mild curiosity but inside he was freaking out a little. What’s a Ferelden? Is that what they call a human here? Best to play mysterious to try and avoid anything incriminating until he had more information.

Harry gave him a carefully constructed neutral look, “What makes you say that?”

Varric shrugged, “Your accent sounds Ferelden but its… unique, maybe something from farther East?”

Harry smiled, info mining success: Ferelden is most likely a country.

“Very astute of you.”

He decided to keep the conversation going to see how much information he can get out of his companions, “Since you asked where I’m from, it’s only fair I ask you were you are from, Varric.”

Varric laughed good naturedly, “I suppose so. Well I hail from the Free Marches, Kirkwall to be exact. And no, despite what you heard, Kirkwall is not that bad.” At the last bit he sighed and rolled his eyes as though he heard the question over and over again.

Harry’s eyes practically sparkled, he sensed a story and Varric was first and foremost a story teller. “Why don’t you tell me some of those ultra-safe stories then.”, Harry goaded with an eyebrow wiggle, edging Varric on.

Varric practically cackled at the chance to tell a story and launched into a tale about him, a man named Hawke who seemed like an exasperated mother, a mage named Anders (who earned Cassandra’s scowl as soon as she hears his name, interesting), and a woman named Isabela crashing into a house full of slavers, literally.

A few things Harry got from that story:  
1) It was embellished to hell and back  
2) Literally all of Varric’s friends like to try and drive Hawke into an early grave  
3) Slavers were prevalent in this world and they all seemed to be Tevinter, a race maybe?  
4) Anders made Cassandra agitated even at the mention of his name. Maybe because he’s a mage?  
5) Isabela was a pirate? Or she just liked to pretend to be one.

Though, even without needing to pay attention to get information from it the story was well told and constructed, Harry was entertained till the end and told Varric as much, “That was a very well told story, though the embellishments were a bit much”

Varric held his hand over his heart and dramatically gasped, “I’ll have you know I add just the right amount of embellishments. Exaggeration is the spice of a good story.”

Harry wagged his finger and said fake patronizingly, “But a great story doesn’t need exaggeration, the events will already be that right side of ridiculous.”

“Oh ho, I’d like to see you try Hot Shot.”

“You asked for it.”

Harry smirked and began to weave a tale about how he got roped into one of the Weasley twin’s schemes to prank Snape that ended up with the three of them getting chased through the halls of Hogwarts, carrying a comatose Crookshanks, a sack of multicolored rinestones, and a glass bowl half filled with melted cheese, by a feathered covered Snape. All told without the magic involved of course.

At the end of it the group of four had to stop since Varric was leaning against a tree laughing his ass off, even Cassandra and Solas had an amused smile on their faces. Varric finally composed himself enough to keep walking after a straight five minutes of laughing.

He wiped the tears from his eyes and said a little breathlessly, “Damn, that was fantastic. I’ve got to use that in my next book.”

Ah, so Varric is a writer, that explains his tendency towards showmanship.

Harry shrugged good naturedly and shot him an amused look, “Well Varric, as one storyteller to another, I’ll let you keep that story. Not like there isn’t more where that came from.”

Varric grinned and slapped Harry’s back, “This is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

*~*~*~*~*

While the story telling helped pass the time Cassandra buckled down saying that there was no time to pause for five minutes every story. After that the group moved quickly up the mountain, stopping on at a checkpoint that was less than eight meters away from a rift, reaching the forward camp in a timely manner. 

At the forward camp there were dozens of soldiers milling around: groups getting supplies, resting after coming back, and some getting healed. Another thing that was easy to find was the French woman from before and an old man, a priest from the looks of his clothes. The two of them were arguing heatedly. As the four of them moved into view, the old priest stood up and frowned, “Ah, here they come.”

The French woman turned around when the old priest stood. She took a step forward, a minute change of her brow wrinkles revealed how relieved she was that Cassandra made it. She was good, usually emotions were as plain as day on people since Harry has lived for three centuries, give or take a few decades.

None of her relief was in her voice, “You made it. Chancellor Roderick, this is—”

All of the Priest’s, Chancellor’s, distain could be plainly seen on his face or his voice, “I know who he is. As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.” The last bit was directed at Cassandra, in a very authoritarian manner.

Ah, so he is in the religious sect, and that place had a name that was french so not in Ferelden. As far as Harry could tell Ferelden was British or Scottish. It also seems as if Cassandra was part of this sect, how far up is the Chancellor?

Cassandra looked highly offended and the disbelief was plain, “'Order me’? You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!”

“And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!”

Apparently not that far if Cassandra can rebuff the Chancellor so easily. The Chantry must be the name of the religion or maybe the religious organization?

The french woman cut in, looking a little frazzled, “We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know.” At the last bit she looked to Harry, as if to console him that they didn’t serve something that wanted my head.

Most Holy… their religious icon? Or maybe their deity?

The Chancellor shook his head angrily, “Justinia is dead! We must elect her replacement, and obey her orders on the matter.”

So, this Justinia person is the Most Holy? Perhaps it’s like the ancient Chinese emperors with their connection to God. Though the Chancellor mentioned election, maybe it’s more of an anointing process. The people pick their leader and that leader is anointed by divinity?

Pretty soon Cassandra started on again about how the Chancellor had no power and the Chancellor went on about there is no higher power and at that point Harry stopped listening, so he decided the circular arguments have gone on long enough and he cut in.

“What about the Breach? Why are we standing around an arguing when we should be fixing the problem?”

The Chancellor seemed infuriated at Harry’s pointed barb, “You brought this on us in the first place.”

After a mini standoff with Harry, the Chancellor sighed and looked at Cassandra, he almost begged, “Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.”

“We can stop this before it’s too late.”

“How? You won’t survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers.”

“We must get to the temple. It’s the quickest route.”

“But not the safest. Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.”, the french woman chimed in.

Cassandra turned to her, scowling, “We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It’s too risky.”

The Chancellor begged again, desperate, “Listen to me. Abandon this now, before more lives are lost.”

The heated stare off was suddenly interrupted by a pulse of the breach, and a pained gasp from Harry who clutched his arm. Varric looked at the green mark alarmed and asked in concern, “You okay Hot Shot?”

Harry waved him off with his normal hand, the pain receding again. Cassandra growled, “This arguing is pointless, we must go to the breach. How do you think we should proceed?”

Harry looked up from his hand a little incredulously, “Wait, aren’t I your prisoner? Why are you asking my opinion? Is that normal?”

Cassandra’s lips pursed, it’s obvious she didn’t appreciate his logic. Well too bad, who the hell asks their prisoner what to do, that’s asking for an itching charm in your trousers. She ignored his common sense and just plowed on, “You are the one we must keep alive and since we cannot agree on our own…”

Alright, that kinda made sense… in a convoluted way. 

Harry looked over the table in front of him, it had a few pieces of parchment on it weighed down by a stone. The parchment had a very crude map drawn on it and as far as he could tell charging was the shortest path, but it was also marred by circles with squiggles coming out of them, presumably rifts. On the other hand, the mountain path was very winding but seemed clear for the majority of it, until a blank spot on the map. That must be where the scouts were lost, they must have just sent an updated map before being lost or killed. There was a camp a good distance from the first rift on the path straight up and a note scrawled on the bottom the map about a maximum radius for the demons, that could work.

*~*~*~*~*

Leliana watched the man who was to be their savior with a critical eye. He was looking over the rushed map her scouts had created after the original one was destroyed in the explosion with a tactical mind. She could practically see his mind working, putting together plans and discarding or adapting them based on the information on it. He wasn’t just skimming it like most people would to decide distance, he was looking at the troop movements and rift placements.

This is not the weeping man she found in the dungeon and he was not the simple catspaw she was expecting. He has lead before, he has been through war. His accent sounded Ferelden, in the loosest definition of the word, perhaps he was a war veteran from the Ferelden Rebellion? No, he is too young even if he is baby-faced. The Blight perhaps? More likely.

Who is he and why was he at the Conclave, her scouts did not find any documentation about him being at the conclave, not even a sighting by a servant. Leliana did not like being in the dark about anything.

The prisoner’s voice knocked her out of her thoughts, “Okay, so here’s what I got.”

He pointed to the camp near the base of path to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, “Lets station troops here and have a shifting rotation of 10-minute intervals go into range of the rift kill the demons and then get out. Do this to keep the attention of the demons on the soldiers but the rotation will keep anyone from getting too tired. Going on the mountain path shouldn’t take us more than an hour, maybe an hour and a half. Charging through will slow us down with all the rifts even though it is shorter. Small groups of soldiers or scouts can even sneak by while the demons are being distracted if they hug the walls of the valley.”

A solid plan that made use of all the resources but doesn’t squander it. He even added enough detail and thought to get Cassandra to approve of technically leaving the troops alone. Yes, this man is not what he seems at first glance.

*~*~*~*~*

Harry and co spent a few minutes hammering out the details to the plan and then the french woman sent off a raven with the plan to a Commander Cullen, must be the ground leader. After a quick weapon exchange for something a bit better quality and a new sack of potions they were off.

Pretty soon they reached a set of ladders that allowed the team to scale the vertical mountain face without wasting time. The three behind Harry were talking, something about a tunnel, but all Harry could think about were the soldiers on the path putting their lives in danger for him to get to the breach faster. His vision tunneled down to whatever was in front of him. The world around him blurred and he barely had to think while fighting demons and ghosts. Before he even registered time passing they were outside the tunnel and Harry was looking at three dead bodies clothes in armor.

Varric looked on in sadness and sighed heavily, “Guess we found the soldiers.”

Cassandra looked around the landscape in disbelief, “That cannot be all of them.”

“So the others could be holed up ahead?”

Solas frowned and said with resolution “Our priority must be the Breach. Unless we seal it soon, no one is safe.”

“I’m leaving that to the man with the glowing hand.”

They hurried down the path, a little faster than before. Harry couldn’t help but hope there were still people alive. As they were turning on the path Harry heard sounds of fighting and started in a sprint, there were people fighting! In seconds he few down the path to see a small clearing with a few soldiers fighting for their lives against some kind of green skeleton.

Before Harry could get close enough to engage the skeleton it reached down into the ground and pulled it apart. He was stunned for a half second, long enough for it to disappear into the green vortex it created and disappear. Then a green puddle formed under him and Harry quickly got the hell out of dodge just in time for the skeleton to pop back up. 

It was like a mole, a demonic mole!

The demon mole started folding backwards, like some kind of messed up bridge, and screeching so Harry decided to run up behind it and thrust his sword through its back and out the chest. Apparently, demon moles don’t have hearts or something because it just continued to bend backwards even with a hole going through its chest. He also found out what the demonic acrobatics were for when it screamed so loud Harry was pushed onto the ground by the force of that banshee screech.

Fuck, his head hurt like a bitch.

He looked up just in time to see the demon mole go for his head with one of its wickedly long talons and then freeze when a blast of ice hit it in the back. Harry wasted no time getting back up and swinging his sword up to slice through the demon mole’s neck. Once his sword slammed into the demon it shattered and burst into that green energy. Harry caught Solas’ eye and gave him a quick nod before entering the fray again. There were still two more demon moles and he owed them some stabs to the head.

The demons were quickly mopped up after that since Harry knew to just go for the head and not to let the demon moles scream. Killing the demons seemed to have made the rift calm so Harry tried to close it. Of course, tried is the key word. He didn’t even know how Solas did it the first time. Harry thrust his hand at the rift but that did nothing, so he waved it a little but that also didn’t work… 

After a few second of getting increasingly angry Harry just wanted to wave his fist at the rift in anger but then the connection flared to life and Harry had more things to worry about than malfunctioning magic marks. The first rift was not a fluke, the squeezing and pulling sensations were back, a tad bit weaker but still there.

Harry glared at the mark, of course his magically created tattoo had to be temperamental.

Solas walked up behind him and commented lightly, “Sealed, as before. You are becoming quite proficient at this.”

Harry gave him a deadpan look, “Well… I’m getting proficient at flailing my hand alright.”

Varric shrugged, “Let’s just hope it works on the big one.”

The three of them turned to see Cassandra help up one of the soldiers who looked deeply grateful, “Thank the Maker you finally arrived, Lady Cassandra. I don’t think we could have held out much longer.”

Cassandra shook her head and gestured to Harry, “Thank our prisoner, Lieutenant. He insisted we come this way.”

The soldier’s eyes looked surprised, “The prisoner? Then you…?”

He moved forward with a slight smile, “I hoped to find you alive, coming this way is worth every risk if I can keep more good people from dying.”

“Then you have my sincere gratitude”

Cassandra caught the soldier’s attention and gave orders, “The way into the valley behind us is clear for the moment. Go, while you still can.”

“At once”

The group of survivors gingerly made their way up to the tunnels as Solas moved forward to peer over the side of the clearing, “The path ahead appears to be clear of demons as well.”

At that Cassandra moved down the path, her voice easily heard over the mild wind, “Let’s hurry, before that changes.”

The group of four hurried down the mountain and soon enough they saw the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Harry looked at the ruins with horror, what had caused this? There were charred corpses everywhere, still in the position they were in when the explosion hit. Even the ground was ash and crusted with charcoal. They approached the half-demolished temple and Solas shot up a fire ball, the signal to the soldiers they had made it and to get out of range of the demons. 

Each of them stepped carefully when moving into the Temple, there were skeletons all over the entrance way. They moved through the small corridor and into the main sanctuary of the Temple, their eyes drawn to the sickly green light above them. Harry looked up and up and up.

Varric said what they were all thinking, “The Breach is a long way up.”

Suddenly Harry heard clanking metal and turn to see the french woman turn the corner with a handful of soldiers. Her relief was a lot easier to see this time, but Harry chalked it up to being basically right under the green fire and demon spewing hole in the sky.

“You’re here! Thank the Maker.”

Cassandra moved closer to her and started talking about positions and tactics. Harry tuned her out to stare up at the Breach. It was breathtaking in a way. The greens shifted and rippled, cracking at the edges like billion of glass shards. They say when you look into the Abyss, the Abyss looks into you.

Wonder if he would die if he was launched into it.

No, Cassandra said they found him after he fell through it.

Pity…

“This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

He looked away from the hypnotizing light and turned to look over his shoulder at Cassandra. He gave her a considering look and turned back to look at the Breach. It was a lot higher than what he can get to without magic. 

“I’m not much of a climber, Cassandra. I hope you have a plan to get me up there.”

Solas moved to stand next to him to look at the rift at the base of the tower, his tone measured and calm, “No. This rift was the first and is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.”

“Then we better get down there.”, Harry remarked lightly as he carefully moved around large chunks of rubble, trying to find a path down.

Suddenly a loud voice echoed in the temple, “Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.”

“What are we hearing?”

“At a guess: The person who created the Breach.”

The voice didn’t come back so Harry continued picking through the debris, slowly he noticed red specks and the further he went the larger they became. He stopped and crouched by a fist sized chunk, was about to touch it when Varric hissed, “Don’t touch that Hot Shot. That’s red lyrium. That shit is crazy.”

Harry looked at it curiously but got away from it. Varric let out a loud breath when he was a good two meters away from the red stone. Well, if it made Varric happy he won’t touch it. They began moving again and Harry made sure to skirt the red stone that soon became large crystals attached to the walls.

“Keep the sacrifice still.”

“Someone help me!”

Cassandra went stock still, eyes wide, “That is Divine Justinia’s voice!”

Everyone waited with baited breath for another voice to echo out but after two minutes Cassandra made them move on, jaw clenched and determined to find out what happened. They reached the end of the balcony and the railing was destroyed so Harry just jumped down. He looked around, trying to see if there were any hiding demons but the coast was clear, so he moved toward the rift but after one step his hand exploded in agony.

“Someone help me!”

“What the fuck are you doing!”

Wait. That was his voice! He didn’t remember anything about the explosion. What happened to him? Why doesn’t he remember this happening? Where were his memories!?

Then world exploded into white light.

When the light died down a ghostly image was projected above them. An old woman in the similar clothes to the Chancellor, the Divine most likely, was held aloft by dark red magic being controlled by people in blue and silver armor. A uniform? Across from the Divine was a shadowy creature with bright red eyes, it was holding an orb to the woman. The closer the orb got to the Divine the more she writhed in pain, but then they were interrupted by the doors slamming open. Then in came Harry yelling, “What the fuck are you doing!”

“We have an intruder.”, the shadow pointed a long arm tipped in claws at him, “Kill him. Now.”

Another blinding light flashed around them and when Harry looked back up the ghosts were gone. However, he was only given a moment to breath when suddenly Cassandra was in his face, her eyes wide and her voice desperate, “You were there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?”

“I don’t _**remember**_!”, his voice cracked with fear and an edge of desperation. Cassandra froze at Harry’s voice, and then backed off the scared man. Why couldn’t he remember?! Someone messed with his head, took his memories!

Solas caught Cassandra’s eye and then nodded to the rift, “Echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place. This rift is not sealed, but it is closed… albeit temporarily. I believe with the mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

“That means demons. Stand ready!”

Harry was nudged forward by Varric and he had to brace himself to move further into the room. The air around the rift was heavy with magic and he could feel the rift fluctuate, full to bursting with energy. He barely waved his hand in the general direction before the line of connection was attached and the rift was open.

Then out came a ginormous demon, its purple scales bulging with muscles like an over grown porcupine. Cassandra gave the command to attack and everyone launched at the Hulk.

Which ended up being basically useless.

The thick scaly hide stopped everything from poisoned arrows to ice blasts from even making a scratch. Harry even used very subtle strengthening charms on his sword, that would normally go through reinforced steel like butter, but it only gave the porcupine a small gash.

Harry shouted in frustration, “This isn’t working, any ideas?”

“Disrupt the rift!”

Well, there’s an idea. The demon came out of the rift, so it should still be connected to it. Harry beat a hasty retreat and swerved to avoid a lightning whip to the face. Once he was out of range of the Hulk he stood underneath the rift and waved his hand… and it was malfunctioning again.

Fuck.

Come on it was working literally five minutes ago.

Harry checked the fight really quick and sent a thread of magic to tug one of the soldiers to the right, out of the way of a lightning orb. Then he was back with the stupid mark. It worked earlier, but maybe that was due to the abundance of magic in the air, but he also did it on the path to the temple. How did he do it again?

Harry made to clench his fist and then the connection popped up.

Okay, apparently trying to fist bump the sky made fade magic go crazy.

Fucking weird, but if it works…

He severed the connection when he heard a loud thump and Cassandra shout, “The demon is vulnerable – now!”

Harry ran back to the fight, waving a blanket strengthening charm on all the arrows and swords in the room. Cassandra was tearing the hide and flesh off the demon and Varrics bolts cut deep into the demon’s back muscles. Everyone was rending the demon to mincemeat, but Harry knew the best place to hit and what would most likely kill the damn thing. He ran right up into the porcupine’s personal space and thrust his sword into one of its eyes. The charmed sword sliced straight through the soft tissue into the brain, killing it.

“Now! Seal the rift!”

Harry abandoned the sword and high tailed it back to the rift. Just clench the fist and yes, the connection was created! Unfortunately, this time the rift wasn’t pulling any punches. Harry ground his teeth at the suction pulling on his arm and the crushing feeling on the mark, like it was being run over by an automobile. The pain just continued to escalate, no sign of stopping. 

It was pure bliss when the pain consumed him, and Harry fell unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I wrote before posting so it'll be a bit before the next one.
> 
> Thanks for reading and if you liked it please leave a kudos and a comment. I have the main story line all figured out but i wanna know what you guys think.


	5. Herald of Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wakes up and nothing is completely done. Also, people seem to think he is divinity and that not alright!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter has a lot of copy and paste from the actual game (actually, a lot of the prologue dialogue was too), its just that Harry doesn't know the cast of DAI yet so their answers aren't personal or different. The stuff talked about in the early chapters are very much for plot,
> 
> I promise that later the story will deviate more and there is plenty of original content to be had. I'm planning SO many shenanigans.
> 
> Thank you for your patience to read this note and my story.

Waking up was usually very simple for Harry, one second he would be asleep and the next he was up and getting ready for the day. Ron always cursed him for this habit, calling him a ‘bloody morning person’ but Ginny was thrilled with his habits, because that meant she always had hot food when she woke up hours after him. 

His habit of going from asleep to firing at all cylinders was the only reason the cabin he was laying in wasn’t burned down to cinders. He remembered Haven before he even opened his eyes and registered the wooden celling above him. Lucky since he still had no idea how to break his magic to people who were neutral at best to magic and that had assumed he was mundane. I would not be the best idea to surprise them with his magic via burning building.

Harry laid there ignoring his sore everything by counting the knots in the wood that made up the ceiling when he heard light footsteps. He sat up to look at the door where a thin elf girl appeared. She didn’t look at the bed immediately when entering the room so when she did scan the room and see Harry sitting up she startled badly. She jumped a backwards and released her grip on whatever she was holding, according to the shattering glass noise it was probably potions.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!”, the girl said in a shrill voice. Her body was hunched inwards and was a neon sign of terror.

Harry waved a hand dismissively and moved to get up, “Don’t worry about it, I just woke up.”

The statement didn’t reassure her, in fact it made her eyes grow wider and her entire body start shaking. He was afraid that she would pass out from stress with how afraid she was. Just as Harry decided he was going to cast a spell to calm her down she fell to her knees and practically shrieked, “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.”

Her head came back up but her eyes never strayed from Harry’s feet, she was still trembling, “You’re back in Haven, my lord. They say you saved us. The breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days!”

Harry spoke softly, trying to be as non-threatening as possible, “So the Breach is closed, everyone is safe?”

“The Breach is still in the sky but that’s what they say.”

Harry sighed inaudibly and made to stand up. That seemed to scare the elf girl since she jumped back up, tense as a wound spring and her words a bit rushed, ““I’m sure Lady Cassandra will want to know you’ve wakened. She said, ‘at once’!”

“And where is she?”

“In the Chantry with the Lord Chancellor. 'At once,’ she said!”

With that the girl bolted as if a Grimm was on her tail and Harry was left alone.

*~*~*~*~*

Walking through the village after waking up was a déjà vu moment, it reminded him of his days at Hogwarts where public attention would change year by year if not on a monthly basis. All the people were crowding around his cabin to get a chance to glance at him, they cheered and celebrated when they saw him upright and well. These were the same people who were sneering and spitting on the ground as he was led out to the Breach and now they were looking at him as if he was their deity. Harry wasn’t sure which opinion he preferred honestly. 

The crowed lined up along the walls and buildings, creating an impenetrable wall around him. They bowed their heads and sang his praises as he walked through the crowd, and they questioned out loud why was he in chains when just a few days ago. Harry had seen a man in the crowd that was bowing to him continuously that was cutting up a roasted pig while glaring at him the entire way down to the gates of Haven just a three days ago.

He would never understand people and their fickle attentions.

Harry put it out of his mind as he walked up the stone steps into Chantry, or at least he hoped the church was it because the crowd was too packed to let him anywhere else. A group of soldiers and robed people, who were probably priests and acolytes, were standing around the opened door and bowed to him as Harry walked into the building. The robed people greeted him with a reverent ‘Herald of Andraste’.

He walked slowly into the building, turning in a circle taking in the architecture he didn’t have the time to see the first day Cassandra roughly pushed him out of the dungeons. It was a remarkably beautiful building, nothing like the glass titans of the modern day but it had a rustic charm. He could tell a master of the craft spent hours on the design - the trefoil arches holding up the ceiling, the stone detail work, the handcrafted statues in wood and stone, it was all beautiful. Harry did always prefer older architecture, probably due to his life in the Wizarding world.

He was admiring a particularly well carved dog when the voices that used to be muffled coming from the room at the very end of the building exploded. It sounded like the sort of argument someone would get murdered for, or at least badly mauled. Harry quickly speed walked to the door, looks like he spent too much time admiring the walls.

“Have you gone completely mad? He should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine.”

“I do not believe he is guilty.”

“The prisoner failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, he intended it this way.”

That was all he heard before opening the door to see it filled with the Chancellor, Cassandra, the French Woman, a woman decked in gold, and a man that literally looked like a farmer in armor. Words were already spilling out of Harry’s mouth before he could even try to moderate himself, “Personally, I thought I did well considering the Breach is not spitting out demons every three seconds. Also, I am offended that you think I didn’t do all I could, I was literally in a coma for three days.”

The Chancellor looked stunned at the word barf for a few seconds and then seemed to come to himself to yell angrily, “’Did well?”, The Breach is still in the sky and the Divine is dead! How is that good?”

Harry frowned and said pointedly, “Well, there would be a lot more deaths and demons if I had done nothing, at least I did my best even if it wasn’t the solution you wanted. I didn’t stick my head in the sand hoping it would all go away.”

The Chancellor’s face became an ugly puce color as he sputtered, “How dare – you have the gall – I demand you chain him! I want him prepared for travel to the capital for trial!”, the last command directed at the two heavily armed soldiers standing by the door.

Cassandra glowered at the Chancellor, “Disregard that, and leave us.”

The soldiers standing guard saluted her, their fists on their chests, and marched out of the room.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.”

“The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it.”

The french woman quickly cut in before the stare off between Cassandra and the Chancellor could escalate again. 

“Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others – or have allies who yet live.”, she changed the subject with the ease of someone used to mediating between a tiger and a lion over the same piece of meat, or just between two politicians. Same thing really. Unfortunately, the Chancellor didn’t appreciate the finesse it took or he just didn’t notice.

“I am a suspect?”

“You, and many others.”

“But not the prisoner.”

Cassandra chimed in with her two cents, “I heard the voices in the temple. The Divine called to him for help.”

The Chancellor looked like he wanted to tear his hair out, “So his survival, that thing on his hand – all a coincidence?”

“Providence. The Maker sent him to us in our darkest hour.”

Honestly at that Harry felt like tearing his hair too. He didn’t need any more insane roles that required him to be the figure head or something divine. He had enough with the Wizarding world, thank you very much.

“You’re seriously thinking I’m some kind of miracle made flesh? I’m not fit for a ‘Chosen One’, trust me, nor do I want to be one personally.”, he said, incredulity in every syllable.

Cassandra frowned but persisted, “We are all subject to the will of the Maker, whether we wish it or not. No matter what you believe, you are exactly what we needed when we needed it.”

Harry tossed his hands in the air, turning away from the aggravating woman. He turned to the french woman and said sarcastically, “Well now that I’ve been roped into becoming a religious figure in something I don’t believe in… what’s next on the schedule? Ceremonial goat sacrifice? Bathing in oil and parading half naked? Should I get ready for an artist to come and carve my likeness? I should warn you I don’t look good in wood, I suggest marble or silver to correctly get this marvelous jaw line.” His fake grin spread wider when he heard Cassandra’s disgusted noise.

The french woman looked at him dead pan but she gave away her amusement with a quirk of her mouth. “While that would undoubtedly be amusing there is still much to do concerning the Breach. It still remains, and your mark is our only hope of closing it.”, she drawled.

“This is not for you to decide.”. the Chancellor piped up from the corner he retreated to when Cassandra verbally beat him.

Cassandra looked at him, furious at his gall, and stomped over to the back table to pick up a book and then stomped back to slam said book in front of the Chancellor. She looked down her nose at him like he was a dirty stain that dared to adhere to her clothes. 

“You know what this is, Chancellor? A writ from the Divine, granting us authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” She practically shoved the Chancellor up against the wall, stabbing her pointer finger into his chest, emphasizing her every word with a jab, “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order with or without your approval.”

The Chancellor beat a hasty retreat with his tail between his legs one Cassandra let him go. At least he had one smart idea.

The french woman stared at the book on the table, grief evident in her eyes and her voice full of melancholy, “This is the Divine’s directive: Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.”

Cassandra stood behind her, ramrod straight and determined, “But we have no choice: We must act now. With you at our side.” She turned to Harry and held out her hand, “Help us fix this before it’s too late.”

Harry looked at her, really looked at her. She held herself strongly with a core of iron but she couldn’t hide the dark bruises under her eyes and tremble in her jaw. Cassandra was shaken by the abandonment of her beloved Chantry, but she will go on to stop the world from devolving into chaos. Harry had a lot of respect for people like Cassandra, after all he couldn’t say he was a hero since he would be lying. Harry had no delusions about himself, after all he succumbed to suicide instead of staying and protecting his people, but Cassandra seemed to be one of the few people in the world dedicated to helping people for very little gain. 

He couldn’t help but feel inspired by her devotion.

Before he knew what his body was doing, Harry’s hand was in Cassandra’s and they were shaking, “If you really want to help people then count me in.”

*~*~*~*~*

In quick order Harry was ushered out to get something to eat at the tavern and to let everyone do their duties. The french woman was quick to abscond to the aviary to send off letters the woman clothed in gold had written up with a flourish. The golden woman rushed off to oversee the flow of goods pouring into Haven from a caravan and to make nice so the merchants will want to make the long trip again in the future. The farmer went off to train soldiers and Cassandra went with him, presumably to go hit something.

At the tavern, Harry met an enthusiastic fan. Flissa was flustered at the sight of him but she was adorable in a childish way, and she made a mean lamb pie, so he indulged her in small talk. He also gracefully accepted the steady stream of ale the soldiers in the Signing Maiden insisted to buy him. It wasn’t the best kind of ale but it reminded him of a simpler Scottish ale with its nutty, grainy flavor. It also helped that the soldiers that bought him his first two tankards challenged him to a drinking contest.

Harry grinned wide, pure predator. They had no idea what they were getting into, you never bet against a wizard. Their magic naturally burned through alcohol and Harry was a very powerful wizard. He was about to get a few silvers richer.

Later, Cassandra found him nursing his seventh tankard while laughing at the antics of a pair of drunken soldiers reenacting a very passionate parting scene from one of Varric’s books. She took one look at the soldiers falling over themselves and making kissing noises to Harry and raised an eyebrow. Harry grinned at her and raised his tankard, “Cassandra, just in time to see Jim and Carlo here acting out a scene from one of Varric’s books… Swords and Shields was it?”

Surprisingly, Cassandra flushed lightly when she heard the title and looked at the writhing pile of bodies incredulously. She shook her head once and then turned away from the men on the floor to snap at him, “Let’s go. We are having a meeting in the war room.” 

At that she turned on her heel and marched out, though Harry could still see a pink tinge on her ears. He downed the last of his ale and thanked Flissa, using the money he won off the bet to close his tab, and left the tavern.

Harry ambled out the door and saw Cassandra waiting by the steps no longer flushed but still looking a bit disgruntled. She waited till he was close and started to walk to the chantry. On the way up, Harry saw the green light of the Breach reflected off the breastplate of a soldier standing guard by the doors and was reminded of the mark on his hand. 

Honestly, he had forgotten about it in the commotion of waking up from a coma but even now it was lightly throbbing. Harry didn’t know what it said about him when something that was practically a magical open wound didn’t register as out of the norm for him. Nothing good probably.

Cassandra saw him looking at the mark and questioned him, “Does it trouble you?”

Harry looked at her for a heartbeat and then back to the acid green and commented lightly, “Not really, the pain doesn’t really register so I tend to forget it exists.”

His companion looked surprised, “Its painful but you can disregard it so thoroughly that you forget about having a magical mark on your hand?”

Harry shook his hand a little and grinned at Cassandra, “It’s a constant pain so I just got used to it, luckily most of the time I first got this thing I was unconscious.”

Cassandra sighed and looked at him exasperated, “I suppose that is a good thing. What’s important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach. You’ve given us time, and Solas believes that a second attempt might succeed – provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by.”

“Oh, we’re gonna super charge my magical hand? That sounds dangerously fun!”

She smirked at him, “Hold on to your enthusiasm.”

They walked up to the door to the room they met up in earlier today, the war room, and Cassandra opened the door for him. Harry walked in and saw the three people from before standing in a rough semi-circle around the oblong table that had two maps spread out on it. Cassandra stepped in and started introductions.

She gestured to the farmer first, “May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces.”

Cullen nodded at Harry in greeting and gave him a small smile, “I’m pleased you survived. I heard that you planned out the rotation for our soldiers that minimized losses, you have my gratitude.”

Next was the golden woman, “This is lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.”

Josephine had a genteel smile on her face, only mildly fake, and greeted Harry warmly, “I’ve heard much. A pleasure to meet you at last.”

Finally, the french woman, “And of course you know Sister Leliana.”

Leliana stepped out of the corner that partially obscured her, he was sensing a trend, and had a carefully crafted neutral face on, “My position here involves a degree of…”

Cassandra interrupted her with all the grace of a rhino, “She is our spymaster.”

The spymaster pursed her lips lightly and gracefully nodded, “Yes. Tactfully put, Cassandra.”

Harry gave the room a shallow bow, “Charmed, I’m pleased to finally meet you all.”

With introductions put of the way the trio forgot all about Harry and Cassandra and dived right into planning, and in consequence, arguments. They argued about everything under the sun: trade routes, training areas, food, equipment, info gathering, you name it they argued about it. Harry watched the three-way ping pong match with Cassandra, it was a little amusing and a little strange.

For Harry, he and his friends were usually on the same wavelength when they were alive. Even if they argued each person had their own specialty that the group would defer to in times of indecision. Ron had his tactics, Hermione with her information gathering, and Harry that was their main leader when things changed on the fly. Then in the rebellion, Harry was used to only exchanging a few words with his commanders and they would obey or politely point out a flaw. He wasn’t used to this take, take, take and the refusal to compromise. Honestly, it was starting to get to the point where their arguing was getting annoying, but he was an outsider and if they wanted to run this way it their choice.

Cassandra seemed to have no problem calling the trio out on their bullshit though. She straightened up from where she was leaning against the wall and called out to get the attention of the trio, “Alright, that’s enough time wasted on miniscule tasks. We must focus on the true threat right now.” Now that the arguments have stopped, Cassandra had the attention of the room so she gestured to Harry.

“I mentioned that Harry’s mark needs more power to close the Breach for good.”

Leliana seemed to see this as a signal to start another argument, she was quick to pipe up with her opinion, “Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help.”

Cullen glared at her and growled, “And I still disagree. The Templars could serve just as well.”

“We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark–”

“Might destroy us all. Templars could suppress the breach, weaken it so–”

“Pure speculation.”

“I was a Templar. I know what they’re capable of.”

Josephine helpfully cut in before the circular arguments could start again, “Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition – and you, specifically.”

Harry blinked slowly and smirked, “That was quick, should I be happy they are so invested in me?”

Cullen rolled his eyes and said caustically, “Afraid more like, and shouldn’t they be busy arguing over who’s going to become Divine?”

“Some are calling you the ‘Herald of Andraste,’ and that frightens the Chantry.”

Harry had to pinch the bridge of his nose at that, the stupidity of people amazes him. He finally looked back up and asked sarcastically, “Shouldn’t the Breach, you know the giant, green, _**demon spitting**_ hole in the sky, be more concerning than hearsay and rumors?”

Cullen scoffed and waved his hand dismissively, “They do know that it is a threat, they just don’t think we can stop it.”

“The Chantry is telling everyone that you’ll make it worse“, Josephine said apologetically, as if it was her problem people in power were idiots and assholes.

Leliana jumped back into the conversation after a lull, “There is something you can do. A Chantry Cleric by the name Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

A cleric from the religious group that just denounced him? What would she get out of this arrangement?

Although Harry was skeptical he shrugged and conceded, “Alright, I’ll talk to her. It’s not like we have much of a choice if we want to get anywhere.”


	6. Candle Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry this is so late. This is way shorter than what I wanted to post but you guys deserve a new chapter already. I'm not terribly happy with this chapter but I hope you guys like it. I'll try to get the next chapter out much sooner than this one.

Before he knew it, the meeting was wrapped up and Harry was outside the Chantry in the afternoon sun just enjoying the brisk weather. Cassandra, Solas, and Varric were resting up to be ready to ride out at first light but Leliana had suggested the he should go to the blacksmith and the apothecary to get outfitted for the journey.

Just before leaving the Chantry Leliana handed over the worn-out messenger bag she had confiscated from him when Harry first landed in Thedas. The bag had been with Harry since Ginny gave it to him to replace his old Hogwarts bag that got blown up in a potion’s accident. Luckily for his continued freedom, Harry only kept a change of cloths and various odds and ends in the bag. All of his important keepsakes like his photo album, potions kit, and library was in the shrunken moleskin pouch around his neck.

However, this meant he couldn’t just whip out Gryffindor’s sword or any special armor since all of it is in the moleskin pouch around his neck. There was no way Leliana and Cassandra wouldn’t find that suspicious and throw him in the dungeon again.

It wasn’t a big deal in the long run though, that just meant Harry got to commission new weapons and experiment with the potions of this world. Leliana had said the apothecary was in the cluster of cabins next to the chantry, so he decided to get some potions first. Maybe he could convince the apothecary to give him some ingredients to mess around with.

Harry had a shrunken trunk full of potion supplies from Earth of course, but it would be fun to figure out what kinds of potions he could adapt to this world. Things like unicorn hair and manticore venom would be a touch harder to get now. It also would be a tragedy if he didn’t take this chance to experiment with potions in this world, it would be a fun hobby at least.

Harry was only a bit surprised when he found out he actually _**liked**_ potions a decade after graduating Hogwarts. He found a new appreciation for potions when he brewed some Dreamless Sleep to help Ginny with her nightmares since his regular supplier had a bad batch of ingredients and wouldn’t be able to get him any for a week. Ginny was having terrible flashbacks of the time she was under the control of Riddle and Harry hated to see her suffer. 

While brewing the potion, Harry was pleasantly surprised that without Snape breathing down his neck he started to find going through the motions of brewing relaxing. Potion making reminded him of cooking and just like cooking he grew to love it when it was something he wanted to do and not something forced on him. 

Admittedly he was complete balls at potion making at first, something he blamed on Snape, but it was easy to pick up. It also helped that the more complicated potions, like Wolfsbane and Polyjuice, were easy as pie to him so all he had to work on were simple ones. Soon enough he was on a potion kick and went a little mad scientist with experimentation since he found it easier to memorize potion recipes if he knew what each ingredient did.

It was similar now with a whole new world of ingredients to mix and mess with so Harry almost skipped to the apothecary, his mind filled with experiments. The building was easy enough to find, all he had to do was follow the stench of boiling herbs and then he was standing in front of a grumpy apothecary who was stirring a boiling cauldron. The apothecary grumbled and complained about being an alchemist but let Harry use his supplies readily enough since he had experience in potion making. 

Adan also mentioned a recipe the old apothecary had tucked away before he died so Harry made a mental note to find the cabin in the woods later.

Harry spent a relaxing hour chopping bits of elfroot, a stringy medical plant, and boiling it into a potion for later use. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any more time to brew since the sun was starting to descend in the sky and he still needed to find the blacksmith’s and get new equipment. Harry waved Adan goodbye, and wrung out a promise to be able to use the supplies again, while walking out the door.

He walked through the village, ignoring the whispers and unsubtle glances from the villagers, and out the gate. People were still bowing to and praising him, some were practically catatonic with how still they were kneeling off the side of the path. 

Harry booked it when a woman with a hopeful look on her face started walking to him with a baby in her arms. No Thanks. She probably wanted a blessing or him to name her child and Harry wasn’t going to deal with that. He was not some religious icon or savior.

Harry was glad when the gate closed behind him and cutting off the stream of praises and prayers aimed at him. He let out an inaudible sigh and then looked around. The clearing he was in bordered a large lake that was frozen solid and a fairly large forest. It was almost blinding beyond the gate since the sun reflected harshly off the icy lake and Harry had to look away or risk making his eyes worse than they already were.

Turning, Harry saw neat rows of tents lined up against the forest and dozens of soldiers doing drills. Cullen was overlooking the soldiers, shouting orders to be heard over the clang of sword against sword. Looking critically, the majority of the drilling soldiers were sloppy and inexperienced with a blade. This was not a huge problem by itself, any army will have green recruits, but new recruits will usually be the second largest group in an army. They were only outnumbered by foot soldiers that were pretty average but could fight. 

This group was much too small for an army of a major player like the late Divine who seemed to control the main religion in this world. There were also too little tents for a large standing army. Where were the veterans, the generals, captains? It was like they all died all at once and all that was left were the rookies.

Wait.

The explosion.

If the Divine was at the temple it stands to reason that her highest-ranking officers were with her and the best of the army were stationed in or near the temple. It was a miracle Cullen wasn’t in the temple too since he is the leader of the army, but now he has to deal with having an army made up mainly of green sprouts. Poor guy, he must be stressed out of his mind trying to get them up to speed with very little support in a military aspect.

Harry decided to go talk to Cullen later, maybe convince him to relax a bit. Not now though, he looked immersed in berating a recruit who was literally using the sheath of his sword to try and fight his partner. He did not envy Cullen’s work.

Turning away from the spectacle that was Cullen and his gaggle of recruits, Harry found himself looking at a hallow stone building full of furnaces and people bustling around with armfuls of metal. There was a young boy in the back, whose sole job seemed to be stoking the flame and keeping it hot, and two or three young adults creating simple short swords. When the basic sword was finished it was passed on to another group to be polished and sharpened.

The blacksmiths were working tirelessly which made sense since they had to recreate an army of weaponry to replace the ones lost in the explosion. Harry even saw a young woman with soot stains streaked across her forehead slumped in a corner out of the way of scurrying feet and hot metal.

A little way off from the forge, a tall bald man with an impressive mustache was hammering a white-hot rod of metal while an apprentice looked on. He was talking and showcasing the proper way to handle the metal and hammer. From the looks of it the apprentice was learning how to create cross guards to be put on the swords.

Harry leaned on the stone wall watching the blacksmith work the rod of metal into a taper. After a good five minutes of whaling on the metal the bald man straightened up and let out a groan as his back cracked. The blacksmith handed the hammer and tongs to the apprentice to let her finish off the guard. After making sure the apprentice had a good hold on the hot metal the blacksmith walked over to where Harry was standing. He held out his hand and said gruffly, “Expected you be by, I’m Harrit. How’s the gear?”

Harry took his hand and shook it firmly and shrugged his shoulders a little, “It’ll do.”

Harrit raised a brow and scoffed, “”It’ll do”? What you have there is just basic, made by the apprentices. If you want custom work bring the materials to me and I’ll make you something special.”

Harry raised his hands in a placating motion and grinned, “I didn’t mean to get you in a twist, just being upfront. I know you are swamped with work since the explosion.”

He backed off and relaxed, “Well I suppose no harm done, glad you understand our position. Did you need anything else?”

Harry spent the next the next half hour hashing out specifics on a short sword and some throwing knives to be finished by the time he came back from the Hinterlands. Harrit had an apprentice run to the armory they had set up in the building attached to the forge for simple weaponry Harry could use in the field till his were done. With the apprentice rummaging through the storage Harrit considered the matter settled and turned back to the forage while shaking his head and muttering under his breath about picky Heralds but he had an amused smirk on so Harry figured he wasn’t actually angry.

The sun was hanging low in the sky, its golden light making everything softer and feel like a dream. Cullen seemed to have finished running his recruits into the ground so Harry went over to invite him to the tavern. He still had a handful of silvers left over from beating Jim and Carlo in that drinking contest.

Cullen refused at first, citing paper work and having to create new training regimens but Harry managed to whittle him down. Jim and Carlo saw Harry dragging the Commander to the tavern and practically squealed in excitement. They quickly rounded up a couple other scouts and soldiers and joined the two of them for a round or two.

Cullen mainly stuck with Harry to talk about training regimens but Harry didn’t mind that much, he found Cullen’s blunt manner and tactical mind very reminiscent of Ron. Eventually Jim got the Commander to loosen up to tell stories of his time as a young templar and the tavern was filled with laughter.

Here, surrounded by boisterous laughter and the soft glow of candles, Harry was content and daydreamed about another warm room filled with hair in every shade of red. In the tavern he could close his eyes and pretend he was at the Burrow with his family. He could finally relax because he was home.

*~*~*~*~*

That night Harry found himself on the roof of his cabin, unable to sleep. It was actually a normal occurrence for a long period in his life after Ginny died, not being able to wind down and sleep. To be granted he never really tried to fix his sleeping habits, insomnia just seems like small price to pay for not having nightmares about not being able to reach his family. Although, maybe he was screwed either way since he was unable to see them again until Death let him go. Everything was just an endless cycle of terror, isn’t it?

Fuck, Harry really hated the nighttime, it always brought out the melodramatic in him. During the day he had things to do and people to bother. Unfortunately, it was socially unacceptable to bother people at 1 am to entertain him, go figure.

He sighed, roughly rubbed his eyes, and flopped onto his back. The night sky stretched for miles above him and even the stars were different from the ones on Earth. It really drove the whole different dimension thing home when he looked up and couldn’t find anything familiar. 

Even if it was different, the sky was a fetching shade of royal blue and illuminated by a moon that was much larger than Earth’s. The stars strewn about across the entire expanse of the sky were pinpricks of bright white light, Harry wondered if there are constellations here?

“The sky is much clearer here, due to the lack of pollution? This world is very medieval-esque, probably haven’t discovered coal yet, if they even have coal here. It’s quite pretty, don’t you agree Death?”

A splotch darker than the shadows around it expanded and grew until Death was unveiled. They hovered behind Harry’s prone form but stayed silent. Harry scoffed and muttered to himself, “You don’t even care about the sky, do you? Everything that doesn’t have to do with death is unappealing and bland to you. I don’t even know why I try…”

“This world has no meaning to me, Death is the same here as it was there. However, I have moved my Master here since this world is different yet similar to the other.”

Harry’s face twisted with anger and he exploded upwards, turning to face Death. He hissed, “I didn’t want to go to a different world, I wanted to die!”

Death was as expressionless as ever, never moving from their spot, their slightly raspy voice floating through the air, “I could not allow that Master, so I found a new world for you to call your own. I even arranged for you to acquire this role, my Master has always flourished under pressure and the other souls that may have taken the mantle were moved on painlessly. I thought you were enjoying your stay, your mind has been quite active since coming here.”

Harry almost screamed in frustration, holding it in only because he didn’t cast a _**muffliato**_ charm on himself so someone would come running if he let out his anger loudly. Instead he conjured a pillow from a piece of straw and ripped into it, shreds of stuffing falling onto the roof like snow. 

After the pillow was reduced to dust in the wind, Harry stood there with his teeth clenched and fists balled up with bits of torn fabric still gripped tight. He stood there, breathing heavily for a moment and then he just deflated. 

Harry didn’t turn around, but his voice trembled and his eyes glistened slightly, “Death… just go.”

Death obeyed their Master and vanished from view and Harry settled down on the roof for a restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spells:  
> muffliato - a silencing charm cast on a user or object so it cannot be heard


	7. Maiden Voyage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its time to frolic through the Hinterlands and kill some people. Harry is gonna learn you are NEVER done with the hinterlands. Also learning about magical differences b/t the worlds!
> 
> NOTE! please read the A/N before trying to kill me Solas Stans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is late... but i made it extra long to make up for it! In any case I ment to have this out last month but look how that turned out.
> 
> IMPORTANT!!! For Solas lovers - He will get better, eventually. Don't burn me at the stake please. I just headcanon Solas to be a bit of an idiot and a huge elitist but Harry is here to beat it into his head that people are people are people
> 
> ALSO IMPORTANT!!! I have edited the other chapters and suggest rereading but really the only important thing that changed (other than horrifying writing) was the addition of Harry's stuff from Earth he keeps in a little baggie around his neck. I forgot it, whoops!

At daybreak Harry, Cassandra, Varric, and Solas were packed off on the best horses the Inquisition had to offer (which was not very good in all honesty since the best died in the explosion) and were headed to the Hinterlands. They had to move carefully down the mountain since it was easy for a horse to trip and break a leg and that ate up most of their time but once they were on flat ground they took off. Their route took them to Lake Calenhad where they got on the Imperial Highway and followed around the south side of the lake to the Hinterlands. Over all it took eleven days to make it to the valley and to meet up with the inquisition scouts already there.

At the first camp the group encountered a short woman, her voice was full of reverence, “The Herald of Andraste! I’ve heard stories. Everyone has. We know what you did at the Breach.” She seemed to snap out of her slight hero worshipping to salute Harry after a moment of awkward staring and introduce herself, “Inquisition Scout Harding, at your service. I – all of us here – we’ll do whatever we can to help.” 

Varric couldn’t seem to contain himself after hearing her name, “Harding, huh? Ever been to Kirkwall’s Hightown?”

“I can’t say I have. Why?”

“Then you’d be Harding in… Oh, never mind.”

Harry was just as confused as the scout at that, Varric sounded like he was playing a joke but it must be a pop culture reference. He noted to find out what books Varric has written, it seemed like everyone and their mother swore on his writing.

Scout Harding was the head honcho of the scouts in the Hinterlands and their link to Haven via raven mail. She already had a small pile of letters from Leliana with status reports on military matters (doing well enough, recruits stopped stabbing themselves at least) and how far they got with getting allies (slim to no progress) that dated back to the day they left Haven. Leliana is very dedicated to her job as spy master.

Harry and co left the camp after penning a quick letter to Leliana, telling her they made it, with more supplies and fresh horses. Luckily the Crossroads were nearby and on their mounts it only took them five minutes at a trot to hear shouting and the sound of metal against metal. Harry urged his horse into a sprint so he was flying down the path, barely registering the others following his lead.

At the end of the path, where the area opens up into a valley, inquisition soldiers were fighting people in heavy armor. They moved slowly but everything was covered in metal, even their heads were covered in helmets that looked like buckets and covered their necks. Each one had some kind of skirt around their waist with an emblem of a sword surrounded by flames embroidered on it.

Harry ordered Solas and Varric to focus on the archers and then jumped into the fray to block a sword that was about to lop an inquisition archer’s head off with his sword. As he and the bucket head were locked sword to sword Cassandra came charging from the side and punted the enemy with a swipe of her shield. The enemy was thrown a good yard away from Harry and he couldn’t help but feel a little afraid at Cassandra’s strength. It took some power to punt someone covered head to toe in metal armor, reminder not to get on Cassandra’s bad side.

Cassandra didn’t even spare more than a glance at Harry before moving on to the next target. Harry watched her scream out a battle cry and attract half the armored enemies and a few of the mages that streamed into the valley as soon as it looked like the Templars were losing. He stepped back from the fight and moved on the outermost skirts to avoid getting spotted and quickly noticed a tall warrior with a tower shield fighting with an Inquisition soldier, not paying any mind to Harry, and so he dived back in. It was easy for Harry to get into the rhythm of battle: slash at that man, dodge the blast of magic from that mage, parry a sword coming from above. 

To be honest, it was a little strange for Harry to work with such a big force. During the war Harry commanded the resistance so that meant guerrilla fighting, hit and run tactics that used small forces and attacks that were over in minutes. After the war Harry was in a partnership with Ron as an Auror pair and even later in life, after Ron retired and Harry quit since he was unwilling to take another partner, he had traveled the world alone.

Fighting in a large group was an experience – everything was chaotic as most battles are but there is a stability that is lacking from smaller groups. Everyone had their place: long range in the back with warriors to guard and rouges to harass the enemy. Harry didn’t need to shout out commands as much since all the people on the battle field were trained to know their role. 

Of course this had its drawback, everything was so rigid and most of the regular soldiers and scouts didn’t deviate from their roles. Only 15 minutes into the battle and the few commands Harry had to make was at some archers to get out of the way of a charging enemy. Their dedication to their role and trust in their comrades to protect them would be inspiring if it didn’t make Harry want to slam his head into the nearest wall.

It was very different from a resistance where you were outnumbered 3 to 1, where all the help you got was from a split second of cover from a comrade, where you learned to weave in and out of battles or died. No one was trained before the war since most of Harry’s soldiers were children, he himself was a child, and had absolutely no help from adults in that regard. Everyone learned to survive at the knee of the father named War and everyone was willing to change roles at a drop of a hat if needed due to that.

Breaking out of his mental tangent, he moved on instinct to tackle a mage in the back with his knee, causing her to hit her head on the ground and a loud crack sounding like a gunshot to Harry amidst the sound of steel on steel. He got up, she didn’t. Harry got up from his crouch and palmed one of the knives he borrowed from Harrit as he honed in on a solitary archer hiding in a tree across the clearing. She was aiming at Varric’s unprotected back and Harry couldn’t have that. 

With accuracy refined from centuries of life, he threw the small blade into the archer’s throat. She fell out of the tree with a gurgle and startled Varric who was reloading Bianca just a meter away from the archer. He looked back at the still warm body and traced the trajectory of the knife back to Harry and gave a thankful grin then turned back to the battle that was winding down. The last enemy tried to hightail it out when he saw Cassandra cut down his last comrade but Solas just cast a lightning spell that electrocuted him easily thanks to the all metal armor.

Now that the enemies were all cleared out the civilians of the Crossroads all peaked out cautiously, sensibly watching out for a stray spell or blade. After deeming the battle over the villagers rushed out and the Inquisition soldiers that were injured were quickly taken from the battle grounds to a higher plateau where Harry could see a cluster of cots. There was a hum of activity were men and women loaded up with armfuls of potions and cloth to rush to mend their bleeding saviors.

An inquisition soldier with a bandage across his brow came up to Harry and saluted him. The man was very average in look and height but he had a determination in the way he pulled back his shoulders and the steady way he stood with his feet shoulder width apart even though it was obvious he had a head injury from the battle.

“Corporal Vale, your Worship. I oversee the Crossroads and try to provide for the refugees.”

Harry nodded, all sense of joking attitude gone, “Report.”

“The Crossroads are a mess – too many refugees and not enough food or shelter to go around, I have to have a guard on food at all times to stop thieves from making off with what little we have. Disease is also running rampant in the refugee camps since we don’t have a healer and low amounts of herbs since it’s been too dangerous to go outside the village with this war running amok. There isn’t enough blankets and clothing to go around, winter is coming and without warmth these people will die from the frost. We also haven’t heard from Master Dennet for four days now and we fear the worst. Piled on top of all the problems, the mages and templars raid the village every few days and take any supplies these refugees can scrounge up. They are supposedly culling anyone who sides with the opposite group but I’m pretty sure it’s because they are high on power.”

Harry sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, this was so stressful. He almost forgot what it felt like to care for hundreds of people when supplies were scarce, he did not miss the weight of leadership. He took a moment to just close his eyes and breath before coming back to the present and his responsibility, “Alright, send a raven to Scout Harding and request four of her best hunters. Have them cut down the goat population since they are overrunning the place. I’ll be going to Dennet anyway to negotiate a deal so I’ll stop by a village or town nearby to get some blankets and see if I can’t find a healer. Do we have a schedule for when the raids happen?”

“No Ser, but five days has been the longest we have gone between raids.”

“I’m assuming you have a watch set up?”

“Yes Ser.”

“Any idea where the Mages and Templars are holed up?”

“A few scouts have been able to follow them as far as the edge of the King’s Road. The Mages are in the Witchwoods and the Templars are somewhere near the broken bridge that leads to Master Dennet.”

Harry took out the map scout Harding handed to him with the new horses and supplies, a large part of it was still empty outside the vague outline of the valley and the Crossroads but he could see the forest to the north of the King’s Road and a long river. The forest was decently sized but there aren’t very many areas to hide in the woods that wouldn’t be easily spotted from far away and the river wasn’t too far from the forest anyway. 

He quickly marked the two places with a stick of charcoal and said, “Alright, I’ll head up to the Witchwoods and then to the river to clear out the camps so they can’t bother you. Make sure you ask Mother Giselle what herbs can be used to treat simple wounds and illnesses, this place has plenty of plant life so it shouldn’t be too hard to gather some up for her. I’ll have scout Harding send a few more men to bolster your forces so you should have enough for an escort to pick the herbs.”

Corporal Vale saluted again with a “Ser”, and marched off to give orders to his troops.

Harry turned back to look at the ransacked little village and sighed again, the templars and mages really did a number to this place. One of the scraggly fields was upturned and young sprouts crushed under metal feet and two of the wooden huts were blackened and smoking, probably from a mage that set them on fire. A line of cots and makeshift futons filled with the injured were set up against one of the better made huts and a Chantry cleric was hunched over the wounded men and woman. Solas was hovering nearby using what spells he had to ease the pain, unfortunately his defensive magic was restricted to barriers and not healing.

He walked over to where the Chantry cleric was fussing over a soldier’s bandages and reading off a list of herbs to a scout, “… elfroot, three bushels of embrium, and at least one of crystal grace for burn salve.”

The scout saluted and ran off with the list of requests, taking a moment to salute to Harry as he passed. The Chantry cleric stood up from where she was crouching and washing a soldier’s torn up shoulder and turned to face Harry with a tranquil look on her face. She looked like the type to never be ruffled, a true poker face.

“Mother Giselle?”

The Chantry cleric gestured to Harry to come look out over the village on the stone ledge, “I am, and you must be the one they are calling the Herald of Andraste.”

Harry’s lips thinned in displeasure, “So people have named me, though I have no love for the title and don’t believe in your religion.”

She chuckled lightly, “We seldom have much choice in out fate, I’m sad to say.”

At that Harry turned away from the village and looked at the cleric with a raised brow, “Does that mean you believe what they say about my miraculous survival and subsequent role?”

“I don’t presume to know the Maker’s intension for any of this, but I did not ask you to come simply to debate with me.”, Mother Giselle delicately countered.

“Well then, why did you call me out Mother Giselle? I’m pretty sure your religious sect is still calling for my head?”

“With the Divine dead, each cleric is now guided by her conscious. I know of the Chantry’s denouncement and I am familiar with those behind it. I wont lie: some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine. Some are simply terrified, so many good people senselessly taken from us.”

Harry scowled, “There were too many people killed in the explosion and that is why the leaders should do something. Being terrified isn’t an excuse to ignore danger and do nothing about it. There is still a giant breach in the sky to deal with.”

Mother Giselle paused in her meandering walk through the Crossroads, turning to Harry with a small frown, “I understand your frustration, but terrified people will try to gain control and humans are easier to deal with than demons. Go to them, convince the remaining Clerics you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightful tales of you. Give them something else to believe.”

“What’s to say they just won’t lop my head off as soon as they see me?”

“Let me put it this way: you needn’t convince them, you just need them to doubt. Their power is their unified voice, take that from them and you will see the time you need.”

Harry’s head tilted to the side with an understanding look, “So that’s your plan: create a stir and unbalance enough people that there isn’t unity and some will be outraged if they go after my head with pikes. It may also give me a chance to gain support to further the goals of the Inquisition. Clever, Mother Giselle, this may just end with positivity.”

The cleric started walking back to her patients but not before Harry caught a fragile sort of smile on her serene face, “I honestly don’t know if you’ve been touched by fate or sent to help us, but I hope. Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call as they will listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us or destroy us. I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana the names of those in the Chantry who will be amenable to a gathering, it is not much but I will do whatever I can.” The Revered Mother walked back to her little niche and immediately had woman in Chantry robes rush to her with lists.

*~*~*~*~*

After sending a raven to scout Harding, talking to a hunter crouching on the hill cursing the world into leading an exposition to get some meat, calming down a slightly star struck recruit Whittle into marking areas on the map mages have been seen holing up for supplies, and sending another raven with a pair of scouts to find the son of the Elf with a sick wife, Harry rounded up his wayward team and they headed out. Their first order of business was to head north to Redcliff and see if they couldn’t pick up a healer and some warm clothes.

It was a simple path and other than the one fade rift that Harry took care of in no time (he was finally getting the hang of it) their horses had no problem trotting along the path. The real obstacle appeared when they saw the gates leading to Redcliff that was shut tightly. The soldier in charge refused to open the gate citing lockdown to keep citizens safe… blah blah… needing proof of identity… yada yada.

Harry thought that the soldier just had an inflated ego due to her ability to keep people out of Redcliff and expected him to bribe her, but he did not have that kind of money or time to deal with an uppity guard. He could just find a healer elsewhere or worst comes to worse just learn more potions and help out the refugees himself.

Luckily going all the way to Redcliff gate wasn’t a complete waste since the Witchwoods were right next door with the bonus of the cliff bordering Redcliff also cutting off the forest. The likely hood that the mages were hiding in a cave in the cliff was high since it would be easily defensible and hidden behind trees. 

Harry led his team along the cliff face, looking out for any sign of magic or a cave. It wasn’t long before the first spires of ice appeared, like they grew out of the ground around the bodies of templars and random people alike. The ice amazed Harry – it wasn’t being sustained, slow beading and trails of water attesting to the slow thaw, but even the very air was chilled around the spire and it still stood towering high above Harry’s head. Even his most powerful ice spell couldn’t do this kind of power, how potent was the magic in this world?

Further into the forest Harry felt the bone deep chill before he saw the field of blue ice covering the clearing surrounding a cave entrance that was closed off by something blue and rippling. There were a handful of people hanging around the ice clearing, most of them were standing around a fire to ward off the worst of the cold but the last two were mages and they loitered around the glowing entrance talking in a low rumble Harry couldn’t make out over the crackle of the fire. Harry quietly whispered to Solas and Varric to head around to take care of the mages while he and Cassandra took on the warriors.

The battle was a quick one, Varric went in low under the peculiar cloaking ability rouges in this world seemed to have and knifed one of the mages before he even noticed. At the same time Solas froze the other mage solid and Cassandra rushed the woman with the axe. Harry himself took advantage of a young man that was still green enough to stare in horror as his comrade was gutted by Varric to take a flying leap and kick him on the head into the ground. He twisted the young man’s head with a snap before the enemy could get back up and the weakly struggling man went limp. The last man made to run for it but Varric shot a speeding arrow before he even made it one meter and he went down with a violent spasm.

With that taken care of Harry left Varric and Cassandra to rummage through the corpses to observe the electric blue energy covering the cave entrance. The covering rippled and pulsed to an invisible wind and Harry could feel the same miasma of cold from the energy that came from the spires of ice. He reached out to it with a hand and a wandless _**Diffindo**_ , something minor and unnoticeable. The severing charm cut the energy shallowly but then it mended itself in a split second as if Harry had never damaged it. Seems as if this energy was much more powerful than anything Harry can do to damage it right now.

“Barriers can only be damaged by magic; physical damage deflects off of it.”

Harry turned from his minor experiment to see Solas walking up. The elf gestured for Harry to stand aside as he readied his staff for a spell. He twirled the staff once above his head and slammed it down resolutely and a fireball hit the barrier and caused it to burst like a soap bubble.

Immediately after the barrier exploded Harry and his team rushed into the cave before the inhabitants had time to retaliate. This battle was slightly harder simply because there was a more experienced mage that could make the ground in front of him burst into flame and turn invisible like a rouge. Fortunately, Harry was able to cast a subtle wandless _**Homenum Revelio**_ in the commotion of battle and nailed the mage as he was sneaking around Cassandra with a blade between the eyes. With the main player out of the game mopping up the stragglers was simple, and they were leaving the cave with their spoils in short order. 

The group left the ice clearing and headed south towards the King’s Road to head to the river and the templar camp. However, just a few minutes into the walk and Harry was hailed down by two scouts with a raven from Scout Harding that were wandering the woods looking for them. The letter was a small scrap of parchment with scrawling handwriting that explained that the scouts were part of a new plan Leliana thought out that made sure Harry and his team was as fast and efficient as possible. The scouts were to write up reports that went to Leliana at the end of the day, map out the surroundings, clean up after battles, watch over the horses carrying extra equipment to make sure the fighters were ready to move at a moment’s notice, and to relay information from Harry’s frontal assault team to the rest of the Inquisition soldiers while Harry did what he did best: kill things.

Harry wasn’t sure how to feel now that he had what amounted to a clean up crew. Also, he was offended that Leliana thought his only skill set was with a blade, next time he saw her he would shove a muffin in her mouth or something.

Even with his mixed feelings on the scouts’ job, Harry and co move efficiently through the King’s Road, dispatching rouge mages and templars alike. Leliana’s agents were well trained, the scouts moved in their wake sweeping through and providing quick and dirty body checks on the enemies once they have fallen to steel and magic. The scouts moved like shadows, making sure to keep well away from the fight so they don’t mess up the team’s synergy but also providing the rare back up if Varric or Solas were about to be stabbed in the back while providing covering fire for the front liners. 

They blended in with the surroundings so well Harry only paid a sliver of his attention to them after getting used to their feather light footsteps. Harry only noticed their exact movements once he was sitting in one place and watching their actions like the time after destroying the templar encampment near the river. They swarmed the area and within the 10 minutes it took to clean off the blood and viscera the scouts had a small pile of gear being stuffed into the saddle bags and the bodies of the templars were burning merrily away from the river. 

It was a little weird that the Inquisition had a rule that all bodies were to be burnt but then again, this world may do it to stop diseases from spreading or there were necromancers roaming around like there were on Earth. In hindsight, Thedas may have the right idea when it came to bodies considering the amount of times Harry had to re-kill an animated body or inferi back on Earth.

Harry idly chewed on some dried meat while traveling down the dirt road that led to the farm where Dennet lived since there was no time to take more than a breather in between battles. The requisitions officer said it was nug, whatever that was, but it kind of tasted like pork but with a tougher texture, like rabbit meat. Wonder what a nug looked like? So far, he’s seen goats, buffalo-cows, fish, and these giant naked mole-rats but he can’t really ask what they are since he’s supposed to be a native.

Pretty soon Harry had to stash the rest of the nug-pork-rabbit meat when one of the scouts reported seeing black wolves prowling the hills surrounding the farming village. He led his horse a bit closer but then stopped and handed the reigns to the waiting scout and quietly dismounted and moved in a wide circle, trying to move behind the wolves.

Unfortunately, one of the wolves noticed Harry edging close to the small pack and became agitated which set off the other two. The wolves lunged at Harry and he had to do some fancy foot work to keep the sharp fangs from shredding his arms and probably giving him rabies. He didn’t think as he ducked and rolled away from the black wolves after some Potter arse.

He was still tumbling when he heard the loud battle cry Cassandra liked to use to get attention and the sharp sound of an arrow cutting through the air. Harry finished his roll and jumped back up to survey the battle: Cassandra was slicing one of the wolves into strips and another was on the ground with an arrow embedded into the side of its throat. The last wolf was snarling at Solas as he brandished his staff like a club, the wolf too close to properly swing his weapon and send a blast of ice like he was prone to do. Harry fanned out three knives and threw them at the wolf, only hitting it along the flank and shoulders but giving Solas enough time to send out a wave of spirit magic and sending the wolf sprawling. The elf then used the bladed end of his staff to put the animal down while it was still reeling.

Varric lowered Bianca now that the last wolf was dead and walked over to Harry with a strained sort of smile on his face, “And that is why I don’t like camping Hot Shot, the wildlife tries to maul me every time it sees me.”

Solas looked over at Varric from where he was running a cloth over his blade, “These were not sane, most likely driven mad from rifts in the veil. Most wolves will take a sheep but never attack a person.”

Cassandra frowned looking every inch the composed and unflappable woman she was, “It makes no difference if they are sane, they attacked and now they are dead. We should get moving, Dennet’s farm is just over that ridge and these wolves are too close for my peace of mind.”

Harry gave the scouts a few more minutes to finish skinning and packing the usable parts of the wolves but setting fire to the flesh since they had no idea if the madness of the wolves could be passed through consumption. Once everything was put away Harry led his small exploration team up the ridge to find Dennet.

*~*~*~*~*

Good news was that Dennet was alive and kicking, great news was that he outfitted Harry with stronger horses. Bad news, Dennet refused to start a deal with the Inquisition until his little corner of the world was as safe as a war-torn land could be, which was reasonable but still bad news.

Fortunately, the first demand of watchtowers was easily taken care of with a few scouts that found and marked good places easily since Harry had cleared out the Mages and Templars. Dennet even agreed to start sending horses as soon as inquisition soldiers got makeshift wooden platforms set up since stone towers would take at least a month to finish. Harry made sure to send off a raven with the plan details to Leliana, trusting his advisors would sort it out.

Ah delegation, Harry’s favorite word and the only way he got outside some days instead of micromanaging everything during the war in his first century. Bless the person that decided that leaders could give others their job to do.

The second part of the deal was to finish off those crazed wolves and took the last few hours of the day before it started to get dark since Harry got side tracked closing the rift on the edge of the farmland. Even with the extra battle to deal with Harry and his team finished off the wolves and their demonic handler with aplomb. The necklace that was left behind by the demonic mole was a little weird, but Harry decided to give it to Solas since the mage off handedly commented that the necklace had a compulsion to make wolves friendlier.

They made it back to the farmland just as the sun began its dip beneath the horizon. After reporting to Dennet the scouts found a little clearing near a pond for the team to bunk down in and started to efficiently set up tents. At this rate Leliana deserved an entire treacle tart for training her operatives so well.

There wasn’t much for Harry to do other than set up a fire pit and start cooking dinner from some of those pink naked mole rats (the scouts had held it out to him and called them nugs) while Solas procured some tea leaves from the depths of his backpack. It didn’t take long for the meat to cook and the tea to boil but Harry was the only one eating by the fire. Varric had his skewer between his teeth more as a piece of straw than food as he fiddled with Bianca, Solas was reading a large tome in a language Harry couldn’t make heads or tails of and only picked at his dinner, Cassandra was busy scribbling on some parchment with her dinner being mindlessly chewed on, and the scouts didn’t even try to act like they were eating while keeping an eye on the horizon.

Harry sighed but didn’t bug his team about eating like he wanted to do, just relaxed with his food since he finally had time to just sit. The scouts were taking care of the watch and the farm was calm around him, so Harry had time to think back on the day’s events and one battle stood out to the Wizard now that he was thinking back. It was during the first fight after leaving the Crossroads where Harry had the time to watch how his companions fought without the rush of demons or protecting civilians to distract him.

Harry was scanning the horizon looking for any enemies, hanging back to catch them by surprise but all he saw was Solas quickly sweeping his staff through the air and a flash of white speed towards the templar archer, covering her with ice upon contact. The archer was frozen without even realizing it, her hands pulling the string back to her ear and eyes filled with determination even while covered in ice.

Honestly, Harry had been a little stunned at the display of magic. Intellectually he knew Cassandra had confirmed Solas to be a magic user, a mage as they call it here, but Harry didn’t sense a magical core in the elf while they were traveling together. Even before, when they were rushing to the Temple of Sacred Ashes and Solas saved him from a demonic mole claw to the face, Harry had brushed it off as a fluke since he didn’t actually see Solas cast the magic. He just assumed that Solas was a scholarly type and not that strong magically, so his core was just subdued. 

That move basically threw that theory out the window. The motion of the staff was practiced and familiar, there were no wasted movements or hesitation in the sweeps of the focus and Solas himself was calm even when an archer was literally a split second away from launching an arrow at his throat. Obviously, Solas was used to fighting and probably strong in any case since the simple freezing spell over took the archer in a fraction of a second. 

In hindsight that was plainly deduced, Cassandra did say he was an apostate and Solas countered that with the fact that every mage is now an apostate. An apostate is probably a mage outside whatever order looked over mages in this world. Solas had to be strong if he was to live against this organization, probably whatever the templars used to fight for if their anti-mage mentalities have anything to say about it. To stay hidden from authorities took guts, tactics, and power. Since it was obvious Solas didn’t lack magical ability it meant that magic in this world was different than Earth’s, either coming completely from the world around them or in a core Harry could not sense. 

Thinking back on it, Harry wanted to slap himself in the face, the first rule of Auror training is to never make assumptions. It seems that living for three centuries in the Wizarding world has killed his common sense since he had assumed that the mages here would be the same as back on Earth. That ice in the Witchwoods was just another example of the scale of magical power in this world, it was impossible for the everyday wizard on Earth to create such a long lasting and powerful ice spell without ten or fifteen others.

Harry sat slightly hunched over, staring into the fire thinking about the difference between this world and his home when he was knocked out of his head by a friendly slap on the back and a wide grin from Varric who was done cleaning Bianca, “Well, today was satisfying! I haven’t had such a rush killing crowds of people since I left Kirkwall. And you are quite the swordsman, Hot Shot, just jumping around and flying across the battle field with a single sword in your hand. Are you sure you aren’t a rouge? Sure act like one, just need a second blade.”

“Oh, I’m well versed in fighting with most things: long swords, dual blades, throwing knifes, bo staff, I’ve even tried nunchucks though that’s not really my cuppa tea”, Harry smirked and shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal, playing it up for Varric.

Varric shakes his head and sighs, “I’ve never even heard of the last two, why is it that people who love to fight also love weird ass weapons?”

Harry cocked his head and wondered if he could tell Varric about those weapons. They don’t seem to be in this world, or at least not in this country, and he wasn’t sure if the writer would use it in his books. After a moment of turning the idea in his head he decided to just wing it and roll with the punches later. Varric was quickly becoming a friend and he would enjoy the new weaponry to add to his stories. The two of them sat and nursed cups of tea Solas had brewed for dinner as Harry talked about the weaponry he learned to use on a diplomatic trip to Japan around his first century of living.

“The bo staff is a long wooden staff that can be used for combat and training, think of it like the shaft of a spear. And nunchucks are two wooden sticks connected together by a length of cord or chain, they are usually used to train hand eye coordination.”

Varric stroked his chin and hummed, “Spears, huh. Qunari liked to use those back in Kirkwall but I’ve never seen blunt weapons other than staffs and those usually have a blade for close combat.” 

Harry straightened up from his slouch sensing an opportunity to learn out this interesting world, “Speaking of staves, how do they work? How do they focus magic?”

Back on Earth, focuses had to have a core of magical material – either a part of a magical creature or a magical crystal that are usually favored by Asian magic users. Magic was pulled out by the focus and shaped by words that helped the wizard mentally picture and control the spell they wanted or the movements that physically shaped the magic.

Varric shrugged but Solas came over when he heard the question. He adopted a slightly patronizing tone but answered the question like a scholar, “Staves are long rods, usually wooden but I have seen metal, with a blade at the end to use for melee. Each stave has a crystalline element at the tip, such as fire, ice, and lightning. The crystal is formed from areas where the veil is thin, and the Fade leaks out into this world. Demons also naturally form them, so they stay in this world when their bodies return to the Fade. Mages naturally secrete energy from the Fade since they are connected more strongly than the mundane, but they have little control of their energy. However, since the crystals are created from Fade energy they can be used to channel a mage’s power. A staff’s basic attack is the same as the crystalline element because the mage just pushes their energy through and doesn’t have a specific spell in mind.”

Fascinating, so magic comes from the underworld, the Fade, and so do magical foci. Demons must be beings of magic as well if they can naturally form foci. On Earth everything with magic has an inner core and magical crystals could only be formed in a high magic concentrated were a lot of people or creatures use their magic, an area like Hogwarts or the Ministry.

Harry started to look like a kid in Honeydukes, “Does the material of the staff effect the magic produced? What’s the purpose of the movements you do during battle? What is the full range of spells mages can do?”

Solas looked at Harry with a fond look and answered the barrage of questions calmly, “No the staff material has no effect other than weight. The movements also have little to do with spells, but every mage develops their swings based on their main school of magic. For example, I am a master of spirit and fade based magic. My style is simple sweeps that has few physical attacks since my magic is mainly used to keep enemies away from me and to shield my comrades. A force mage will generally use large swings of their staff to focus their mind at directing their magic at their enemies, but they also lack jabs and slashes since their magics push around their opponents. On the other hand, a spirit healer usually will have little to no movement since their magic is support in nature and they usually stay out of battle. There are many schools but most mages stick to elements, spirit, pure energy, or blood.”

The magic of Thedas seems kind of simple and forceful, Harry couldn’t see much use of it in everyday use, not like Earth magic. Most of it is combat orientated but that would be normal in such a violent world as Thedas. Even just using their pure magic they just push large amounts of it around. Yet, is it a problem of power or need that makes them stop using magic for finicky things like a tickling charms or charming dishes to wash themselves?

“Magic seems really powerful but you said mages have trouble controlling their energy, does that mean you can’t so small things like lighting a candle or pushing a stack of books across a table?”

“That’s correct, most mages, especially those in circles, would have trouble doing anything smaller than an immolate, a small fireball. Even I cannot trivially light a wick without threatening everything around it unless I had time to focus a large amount of mental control, magic is just too vast and forceful for such a small task. Back in the time of the Elvhen there were many magical artifacts that harnessed the energy of the fade to do simple tasks such as lighting up a room or heating water that most mages cannot so on a whim, however much was lost when the Elvhen empire fell and mages have not rediscovered or recreated the machines in this time.”

Elvhen, what an interesting word, and Solas talks of that long past world with such adoration and longing. Also, why is it that the past had more advanced magical technology? Perhaps due to the Chantry’s spread and its hate of magic?

Harry sighed and stood up, reluctance in his voice and his cup of tea cold from inattention, “I really want to know more Solas, magic is such an interesting topic, but the sun is almost gone and I still need to respond to Leliana before turning in.”

Solas nodded his head and smiled, “I understand, just ask when you have more time. It is always refreshing having a student so enthralled and attentive, especially one without the magical gift.”

With that Harry left Varric and Solas at the fire for his tent where his lap desk sat with all of the writing supplies. He still needed to pen down a report of all the activities he did and send off his updated map to keep Haven updated, sometimes he hated being responsible.

*~*~*~*~*

Solas watched Harry wander off, mumbling about ravens and reports, with a fond smile. Such an inquisitive mind, wondering about stave properties and the uses of magic outside battle. He would have flourished in Elvhenan with such a fascinating mind. It was such a shame he was human with only an abnormally high body heat and had no hint of fade energy flowing through him other than the bright pulse of the Anchor.

Solas’ smile was quickly wiped off at the reminder that Harry was without magic due to his own actions. Harry was just another slap to the face, a young man that deserved what Solas had taken away, but he is also a reminder of what Solas had to do. He needed to succeed, bring back the Fade to the physical world and restore the Elves to their rightful place.

Although thinking on it, maybe plans could be changed to let people like Harry into the upper echelons. People who saw the beauty in magic outside its ability to kill, people who appreciated magic like the blessing it is. Ironic that a human without magic opened Solas to new ideas but he should be rewarded when the world is restored to what it once was.

It was only a mater of time before the world was righted. Corypheus was only a minor setback and Solas had dreamt a thousand years away, what was a few months in comparison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diffindo - Cutting/Severing Charm
> 
> Homenum Revelio - Reveals Hidden People


End file.
